Never Did Run Smooth
by Thing With No Talent
Summary: Beast Wars. Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two. Dinobot/Rattrap, alternate continuity, mature themes, free popcorn provided.
1. The Rodent Doth Protest Too Much

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 1)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: This is going to be long and sporadically updated. Reviews are always appreciated. Other stories are on hiatus for now since this one is burning my brain.

- - - - -

_Slaggin' Pred!_

Rattrap pegged Dinobot squarely between the eyes with a small twinge of satisfaction. The scowling blue face did not flinch or flicker, and his satisfaction quickly ebbed. Sighing, the spy walked across the room to retrieve the dart from the target on which he'd printed Dinobot's image. He would have to make another of those soon, he noted vaguely in the back of his mind. This one was already so pocked with holes that one could hardly make out where the warrior's hooked nose had been.

_Of course_, noted another part of his mind, home of his seldom-acknowledged sense of personal honesty, _if I'm gonna do that, I may as well put my own face on it. I'm only throwin' darts at Chopperface to distract me from kickin' myself in the tailpipe_.

Next shot was half-hearted, went wide, and instead of retrieving it Rattrap plopped himself on the edge of his berth and scrubbed his face with his hands. Everything had gone wrong today. This current mess was largely of his own making -- he had no right to blame Dinobot for it. Except he _didn't_ actually blame him, when he got right down to it. Just thinking about him made Rattrap frustrated as hell through no direct fault of Dinobot's. It had nothing to do with his former allegiance, his smell, his eating habits, or any of the million other things which they argued over regularly and which Rattrap had in truth long since gotten used to. Rather, it was the fact that he _had_ gotten used to them, that somewhere along the line they tread he'd forgotten that the raptor was an enemy, and that everything about him which used to annoy -- his mood swings, his sharp tongue, his brooding scowl, his voice, even the carrion reek of his breath -- were now things Rattrap couldn't imagine living without. _That_ scared him. It angered him. It made him question his sanity.

And today, he'd finally lost it.

"Rattrap," he said softly to himself, allowing self-honesty a voice just this once, "you're an idiot."

A more sullen voice from the defensive quarter of his mind popped up then. _'Course, it wasn't quite _all_ your fault, either. There was Optimus, sendin' him on that stupid assignment with Spots in the first place. An' Mr. Polkadots himself, for walkin' into an ambush and gettin' hurt so's Dinobutt had to drag 'im home. An' don't forget the Pred, Scorpinok or Eight-eyes or whoever set off that bomb that left the command center quieter'n it's ever been_...

He remembered that silence all too clearly. There was nothing from the comms, not even a hiss of static, and nothing from any of them in the command center either. They'd all stood looking like witnesses to the end of the world -- Optimus and Rhinox, and Rattrap manning the silent comm -- as the weight of incredulity and grief settled on the room like a hundred tons of rock. Optimus stricken, Rhinox stunned... Rattrap didn't know how much his own expression showed, only that his sensors had gone utterly numb and the world seemed to be receding as panic and denial began to scream in twin shrill voices from the bottom of the empty well of his Spark.

Hope tentatively reasserted itself after a few moments of the awful silence, and Primal (his voice only just breaking; how did he manage to hide it so?) put out a call to Tigatron and Airazor to search the blast site for survivors as soon as the Predacons cleared out. Their report, arriving shortly after, caused Sparks to sink once more. The area looked to have been utterly destroyed. There was no evidence that anything had survived the explosion. They had no way of knowing that the blast had missed their comrades by a rat's hair, and knocked their commlinks offline; that Dinobot and Cheetor were already on their way home, battered and shaken but very much functional. No way of knowing... until Sentinel abruptly stood down without warning, and Rhinox, activating the external vids, let out a shout that shattered the horrible silence for good.

Scarcely had they all gathered in joyous disbelief around the monitor than the entry lift -- completely overlooked in their excitement as the obvious place they _should_ have been crowding -- rose with two welcome passengers aboard.

Both looked like scrap, naturally. Cheetor was the worse by far, his whole pelt singed and badly charred along one flank, a knee twisted out of alignment and making it impossible to walk. He was slung over Dinobot's shoulder -- the warrior had made the trek back in robot mode, and was beginning to suffer energon surges, but for all that and his battered condition he seemed unperturbed. As three heads whipped around to regard the pair, Dinobot greeted them with a weary look and a flat, "What?"

He must've found their reactions utterly baffling. Rhinox, practically skipping to the CR chambers to prep them for the new arrivals, a grin threatening to crack his head in two. Optimus's hands shaking with joy and relief as they took Cheetor from the warrior, giving Dinobot a warm smile before hugging the young cat so hard he squeaked like a squashed toy.

And Rattrap...

At first he couldn't move. He had to grip both arms of his chair and stare speechlessly at the raptor (Spots barely registered in his mind except for a passing sense of relief, a fact he tried to feel bad about later and failed), trying to make certain of reality and to accept that he was actually there, solid, alive and scowling as if the last hour or so had never happened.

When acceptance set in and he was sure of his own senses, he moved.

He wasn't thinking. Wasn't even feeling yet, really -- time enough for all that later. For now there was only himself and the big lizard and the realization that death had just missed, and might not do so again, and that he might never have another chance.

So Rattrap closed the distance between them in three running steps, sprang up to the startled warrior's chest, hooked his fingers into the large shoulder joints for purchase, and slammed his mouth into Dinobot's. The raptor's scent was ripe at this range and his fangs rasped shrilly against Rattrap's mouthparts, and the rat knew it would probably be his last act among the living, but it. Felt. _Good_.

Damn good.

About one-point-six seconds later, reality kicked in. He realized people were staring at him, at _them_, and that Dinobot had gone rigidly still. Rattrap started to pull back, but it was too late. He sensed the build of tension in the powerful frame that signaled Dinobot was about to move...

He didn't really feel his aft hit the floor, though it was hard enough to hurt later. His whole awareness was taken up with the mech now towering above him, tensed to the point that he was actually quivering, optics lividly bright, nostrils flared. The rat braced himself for attack, quite sure that his existence was about to be ended (_Brutally!_) or at least made a great deal more painful. He briefly envisioned his innards strung around the command center like Christmas lights, his head sitting on Dinobot's trophy shelf with its mouth open in a vain attempt at apology. Almost simultaneously, he imagined Dinobot scooping him off the floor and kissing him back hard enough to leave dents in his mouthplates. Oh, how he _hated_ his brain.

Neither of those things happened. There was only a moment of frozen anticipation as their optics locked. Rattrap realized something was wrong, _very_ wrong with the look Dinobot was giving him. He would've expected anger, perhaps disgust -- which would hurt, sure, but it was a disappointment he'd been prepared for since he first entertained the idle notion of locking lips with the lizard _months_ ago.

What he was NOT prepared for was an expression on the warrior's face that looked as if Rattrap had pulled a gun and shot him. Betrayal, shock, alarm and -- was that _fear_?

It was, he now decided. The sight was still vivid in his mind. Dinobot had been more piss-scared than _he_ was.

But WHY? Why, out of all the damn things Leatherhead SHOULD be afraid of and stupidly wasn't (Rattrap was sure he'd challenge Unicron himself to a duel if the dead god made an appearance in his backyard), did he choose to freak out for the most indecipherable reasons? Maximal torture chambers? Projectile seed-pods? Surprise faceplugging from a suicidal runt he could easily drop-kick through the nearest wall? He didn't know. He _couldn't_ know, because the slagging saurian never told him anything. So in a way, it was Dinobot's fault after all. Right? Right.

Anyway, the ex-Pred had stared at him for a few nanokliks, then fled. He didn't just flee the room, either. He jumped right back on the lift and was gone before anybody could protest. The command center was suddenly silent again, and Rattrap didn't dare look around. He could feel his fellow Maximals' incredulous stares burning his back like lasers. The urge to flee had hit him too, then, and he'd picked himself up without waiting for offers of assistance and -- thankful for once that his short stature made it easy to avoid optical contact -- scurried back to his room as fast as he could.

And here he'd stayed since. He'd told off everyone who came by his door to talk, downed a cube of high-grade from his private stash even though it was the middle of the work cycle, and filled Dinobot's face with every dart in his possession at least a dozen times. And still he didn't feel the slightest bit better.

It wasn't the embarrassment; he knew that would wear off quickly. Rattrap was not a creature who shamed easily. Honestly, he didn't even give a slag what Rhinox thought, let alone the boss monkey or the kid. It was the Chopper he really didn't want to face. Cheetor had been kind enough to stop by once he got out of CR and give him an update (at least, Rattrap though, somebody had found a use for the kid's incorrigible addiction to gossip). According to Cheetor, Dinobot had returned to the base just after midnight and gone straight into the CR chamber without a word to anyone. At least he hadn't been scared out of the base for good, and that settled one of Rattrap's fears; unfortunately, that also meant that to step outside his quarters was to risk walking smack into the warrior any time he turned a corner. The rat still had no idea what to say to him if that happened.

_Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll just kill me on sight. Then I won't have to worry no more_.

The snide thought brought little comfort. Suicidal, he was not. Self-preservation was just too much of a habit to break.

The dart-riddled image of Dinobot glared at him now in silent mockery. Rattrap fell back on his bunk, to stare at the ceiling instead. Didn't help -- he still saw the raptor's face, the harsh red stare a judgment he couldn't avoid. The way Dinobot had looked at him wasn't going to leave his head any time soon. What made it even more awkward was that he could still feel that mouth against his own, teeth and all, and remembering it brought a thrill -- one of disbelief (_Did I really DO that?_) and excitement. Part of him was ridiculously, giddily _happy_ while the rest felt uncharacteristically guilty about it.

"Damn you, you scaly-tailed paradox, you -- you conscience-stabbing jerk! Just get _outta_ my head an' lemme go back to hatin' ya!"

There was a soft knock at the door. "Rattrap?" called Primal's voice. "You alright in there?"

The spy winced -- he'd shouted pretty loudly. His quarters were soundproofed better than most, so he could at least hope his boss hadn't made out the words. He rolled off the bunk and went over to the door, slapping his hand on the comm. "Yeah, what?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you a minute."

Rattrap pressed his forehead to the wall. "Fearless, I told ya, if it ain't a mission--"

"This IS about a mission, Rattrap. It's important. Meet me in the command center in five, _please_."

_Heh. Must be important all right, if he's resortin' to the "P" word_. Rattrap released a long sigh before pressing the comm button again. "Fine. I'll be right out. Just you an' me?" He didn't know if he was ready to deal with anyone else just yet.

Primus bless Optimus, he barely hesitated. "That can be arranged."

This time the sigh was one of relief. "'Preciate it, boss," Rattrap said sincerely. "Gimme just a klik."

_A mission. Just what I need. Anythin' to get my mind outta this stinkin' Pit I've put it in_. Who knew, it might just be a stasis pod or a major energon find, something that'd distract everybody else too. Maybe he'd even get to pretend that yesterday never happened.

- - - - -

**A/N**: Yeah, right. Like I'm that kind. Next chapter, Mating Dance of the Predacons and just what is Dinobot thinking after all this?


	2. Birds and Beezz

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 2)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: This chapter contains a non-graphic sex scene, though it's not the main pairing (yet). If you don't like slash and are still reading this story without having caught on to its entire purpose, please stop now before I scar your brain.

- - - - -

_Wretched vermin!_

Dinobot struck, driving the talon on his hindfoot through the spine of the rat and pinning its body to the ground. The rodent screamed in a thin, shrill voice and tore at the soil as if it were a foe, unable to reach its formentor. The scream lasted about half a second before Dinobot's jaws tore the mammal's head off.

Its blood was hot and bitter on his tongue, and he gagged unexpectedly. Spitting in disgust, he shook the tiny corpse from his foot. Organics, weak as they were, could be quite delectable when eaten raw, and Dinobot had developed a taste for them. He wasn't sure why the rodent's blood turned his stomach today... until he looked down at the furry, mutilated body and realized who it reminded him of. Then he turned away with a shudder.

_But isn't that why you attacked it in the first place?_ sneered an inner voice in mockery of his weakness. _Isn't it why you spend much of your free time hunting these puny creatures, pursuing them with a passion you do not devote to the antelope or the hare?_

He shook his head quickly, irritably. Of course it wasn't. He hunted them as a service to the _Axalon_. Rats were incorrigible pests, among the few local creatures which had adapted to their presence and showed no fear of large alien structures. They crawled in and made nests in the ship's wiring, gnawing through cables and driving Rhinox into near fits of exasperation. Most of the Maximals were involved in efforts to eradicate them. Optimus set traps, while Dinobot and Cheetor had appointed themselves informal exterminators. They even had a rivalry going. Currently the cat was in the lead, and Dinobot refused to lose honor to a Maximal cub. Every rat slain was a victory -- for himself and the Maximals.

The cold inner voice spoke again, amused by Dinobot's line of thinking. _So you attempt to justify your actions with such flimsy excuses. Coward! You know that Optimus's ridiculously humane traps catch more rodents than you could ever equal... and besides, I doubt you are too concerned for Rhinox's mental well-being. Stop hiding behind your comrades and face the truth!_

_**You enjoy hunting them.**__ And you know why_.

That voice was as undeniable as always. Dinobot had heard it since his earliest days in training, and though cruel, it was nearly always right. When he erred due to overcaution or weakness, or plain stupidity, it was the first to scold; yet it also alerted him to opportunities and at times to painful truths he would otherwise ignore or deny.

For all of Dinobot's ruthlessness and blistering criticism of others, few would have guessed that he was so critical of himself. Most took his outspokenness as a sign of self-confidence, rather than a mask for the doubts and uncertainties that plagued him. Never had he been more uncertain than he was among the Maximals. And on the subject of one particular Maximal...

_There is no doubt there! You chase his likenesses around every corner, through every door. You enjoy catching them and snapping their tiny necks and spilling their miniscule guts. You take satisfaction in their dying screams, their pain and terror, and the taste of their flesh in victory. And you do know why. You want it to be HIM_.

No, he thought, glancing back in reluctance at what was left of his latest victim, then hastily away as an image of Rattrap thus dismembered flashed across his mind. No, he didn't. Not anymore.

_Then you have become weak_, scoffed his Inner Predacon. _He has made you weak, and you must destroy him_.

He nearly HAD. Rattrap probably had no clue how close he'd come to death the day before -- what had he been thinking, jumping on the warrior without a word of warning, never mind permission, and assaulting him like -- like -- _What the SLAG was that?_

Dinobot's processor failed to come up with a rationalization that made the least bit of sense. It appeared the rodent had simply gone insane. And his own reaction baffled him even more. He'd nearly killed the rat, not out of anger or outrage at the violation of his personal space (Rattrap seemed to have no concept of such, and Dinobot had gotten used to it), but out of _**fear**_. He'd been utterly and irrationally terrified, on the verge of panic, as if facing something worse than death and dishonor put together.

_So you fled from that half-pint Maximal -- YOU, who would not flee an army! Disgraceful!_

Quickly he countered, _I did NOT flee! I left before instinct could get the better of me, to avoid harming a comrade_.

_He should have been harmed!_ came the savage retort. _He had no right to--_

_He wasn't attacking. Was not a threat._

_Then WHY were you AFRAID?_

_I... DO NOT... KNOW!_

The warrior loosed a snarl of frustration that echoed off the hull of the Axalon, the cliff, and the trees nearby. Predictably, a flock of startled birds burst into flight, and a troop of monkeys started screaming from the valley below. No privacy anywhere on this damn planet.

_"Dinobot! Is there any trouble?"_

Speaking of which. Dinobot growled softly and answered his comm. "Negative, Optimus." His voice sounded strained to his ears, but he doubted Primal would notice.

_"Good to hear. If you're not too busy, could I ask you to check out a situation in sector nine?"_

"Hn. What sort of situation?"

_"Megatron's fliers are hanging around there again. Third time this week. We don't have anything of interest there -- that we know of -- but still, I'd like to know what they're up to. It's probably nothing good. Would you mind taking a look?"_

Typical of Optimus to phrase an order in the form of a request. A patrol would be a welcome distraction, however, so Dinobot decided not to get into it now. "Very well. I'll scout the area. If I encounter any hostility, it will be _dealt_ with." Oh yes, and he was in the mood to deal with it, too.

_"I don't doubt that. Primal out. ... Oh, and Dinobot?"_

The raptor paused in mid-stride. "What is it?" At that moment he heard the _Axalon's_ lift begin to descend behind him.

Primal's voice, innocent as could be: _"Take Rattrap along, if you wouldn't mind."_

The rat hopped off the lift and took about two steps before he saw the raptor and stopped short. For a brief eternity they stared at each other in mutual shocked silence. It was broken by the rise of the lift; Rattrap spun around as if considering a dash back to the safety of the ship, but his retreat was cut off before he could make up his mind. Then silence left him entirely and he began cursing Primal and (near as Dinobot could make out) the rest of the galaxy in creative and colorful terms.

Dinobot, on the other hand, was surprised at how calm he felt. _This day can only get worse_, he decided. _There is some comfort in knowing that, and being able to prepare_.

Without a word, he turned his back on the ranting rodent and started off. He strongly hoped that they would run into Predacons and give him something to take out his frustrations on. Otherwise, he might just have to kill Optimus.

- - - - -

_I'm gonna kill Optimus_, Rattrap vowed for the tenth time that morning. He was willing to bet that Dinobot felt the same way; unfortunately, the warrior hadn't said one stinkin' word since he'd stepped outside. Not that Rattrap was gonna bug him about it. He was rather surprised to be in one piece at this point, and not about to tempt fate. So he held his tongue in check for once (for fear of getting it bitten off) and trotted along quietly after the raptor. Dinobot wasn't walking particularly fast, wasn't trying to lose him as he often did -- but he wasn't paying him any attention, either.

Wasn't even _looking_ at him.

It was damned unsettling.

_At this rate, I won't have any warning before he decides to whip around and tear my head off. If he even does. Well, yeah, but why wouldn't he? After what I did to him yesterday..._

_... Slag, is he even gonna bring that up?_

He'd honestly expected it. He figured the raptor was just waiting until they crossed paths again to demand an explanation or simply beat the scrap out of him. Instead it seemed he was keen on avoiding discussion altogether, to the point of ignoring the rat tagging along just three meters behind him. The spy probably should've been grateful for the lucky break, but he wasn't. It was actually pretty aggravating (not to mention nerve-wracking) when a guy who normally made a habit of insulting and threatening him at every turn was suddenly pretending he didn't exist.

_I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn't lookin' forward to no confrontation, but ain't it better to get it outta the way instead a' waitin'? Don't know how long I can take your silence, Chopperface. I already had plenty a' time to mope an' angst over this, an' I'm sick a' my own company. Hell, I came up with at least a dozen apologies -- don't you wanna hear a single one?_

It was a long walk into sector nine at this pace, and by the time they were halfway there, Rattrap was ready to scream from the tense silence. Several times he started to break it, only to realize he had no idea how to start. There were a couple of different options, but none of them looked really good.

Option One: Pretend nothing happened. Act normally until Dinobot started doing the same, and never speak of the embarrassing incident again.

No good. This wasn't some little bitty one-time thing. Rattrap's feelings hadn't changed, and he knew that he was very likely to do something like that again down the road, regardless of what common sense might tell him. Even if he managed to get the lizard out of his life, he'd never get him out of his head. Repressing all this would make him crazy.

Besides, the others had seen it too, and he couldn't guarantee they'd let it go even if _he_ did. Option One was out.

Option Two: Play the silence game for now and wait until Dinobot was ready to talk.

_Yeah, right_. At this rate, he could end up waiting indefinitely. Dinobot's stubbornness was the stuff legends were made of. He'd never yield, and Rattrap would end up going nuts anyway, unless he resorted to...

Option Three: Confront him. His least favorite, and the only one that had a chance of working out... assuming it didn't get him killed.

_How do I end up gettin' myself into these situations?_ he asked of no one in particular. The answer was so obvious that he didn't require someone else to point it out for him. _Right. Well, here I go then_.

"'Ey, Chopperface? I, uh..."

But he got no further. Dinobot at that moment stiffened, raising his head and flaring his nostrils. He stood motionless for several seconds, and Rattrap recognized a hunter-tracker at work. His own nose was quite keen at a short range, but couldn't compare to a velociraptor's.

The saurian swung around like a compass needle, snout pointed in the direction of the target. He began walking again, quickly, almost at a trot; Rattrap kept up as quietly as he could.

Briefly he wondered whether Dinobot had simply wanted to distract him from talking. A look at the predator's face told him otherwise. There were times when Dinobot did not fool around, and this was one of those situations. He was in business mode, on the trail of an enemy. Rattrap stowed the comments and just followed.

They were now within sector nine, which consisted of a patchwork of grass and rocky hillside dotted with scrubby trees. Plenty of cover, good place for an ambush. Rattrap was suddenly glad to be in Dinobot's company. If nothing else, he was a reassuring presence on the battlefield -- provided you weren't on the other side.

They slowed by unspoken agreement, stalking cautiously among the boulders strewn over the grass. There was an intermittent breeze and Rattrap now could just make out the scents of oil and ozone given off by Cybertronians, detectable at some distance in this organic wilderness. He didn't want to be the first to stumble into the Predacons, so he kept a low profile while Dinobot slunk on ahead. When the soft sound of raptor footsteps abruptly ceased, Rattrap scurried quickly over to join him.

The tracker had halted behind a large, sloped boulder propped against another, forming a narrow V-shaped cleft that allowed for a clear view that would keep the watcher well hidden. Dinobot wasn't looking through it, however. He looked extremely disturbed, and Rattrap immediately transformed to robot mode, drawing his weapon. Dinobot shot a brief glance at him and then away, moving off a short distance as if to say, _You look. I'll, uh, watch your back_.

Unsure what could be bothering him so much, but not arguing with the arrangement, Rattrap inched quietly up to the cleft and peered through. And just _stared_.

The Predacons were here, all right. Whether or not they were up to no good... was debatable.

"What in the Pit--" Rattrap didn't finish the sentence. Even at this distance, it didn't take long for what he was seeing to click. He dropped back down hastily behind the boulder, feeling an odd (for him) surge of embarrassment. "Never mind, I know what that is."

He chanced a glance over at Dinobot, only to find the raptor ignoring both him and the Predacons completely, glaring steadfastly at the opposite horizon. Oh, yeah. He was embarrassed too. Least now it was obvious why.

Rattrap took a moment to compose himself (_You're a spy, for Sigma's sake! It's nothing you ain't seen before! _), then cautiously peeped through the crack again. He tried to observe dispassionately, as if he were watching a boring holovid, and shove all other reactions to the far corners of his mind. Years of practice served him well. The embarrassment left, or at least retreated long enough for him to observe details and make notes -- not that anyone would want to read them.

At _that_ thought, his mood suddenly brightened. He extracted a small video recorder and held it up to the crack, grinning to himself as he imagined Optimus goggling at his "report." Revenge would be sweet indeed...

_You want to investigate Pred activity? Get an eyeful o' this, boss monkey_.

Terrorsaur was sprawled out on his back, with the awkward bulk of Waspinator atop him. The insectile mech was straddling the other's hips and leaning forward so that they were face-to-face, chestplates almost pressed together; his hands gripped Terrorsaur's upper arms as if to steady him against the tremors that wracked his body. Rattrap could see those tremors from here, the sunlight making odd flickering patterns as it struck the veins of his translucent wings, which were vibrating erratically. They were both weirdly silent. Terrorsaur's head was tipped back, his optics dimmed and his mouth working dreamily, but if he was making any sound in that crystal-shattering voice of his, it was inaudible at this range. Waspinator's vast, unblinking optics were fixed on his face as if there was nothing else in the world.

He didn't need to see their abdominal ports open, or the interlinking cables (hidden by the close proximity of their bodies) to know what was going on. Made sense if he thought about it -- after all, the Pred base wasn't exactly a safe or friendly environment, and some things were probably best done far away from Megatron. In a way, it was a relief that their presence here had nothing to do with pods or bombs or plots to destroy the Maximals. Two of Megatron's warriors were currently occupied in something entirely non-threatening.

On the other hand, they were, well, _interfacing_ on enemy territory. In Rattrap's book, that was trespassing. Not to mention risky and stupid to the point that it would almost be a crime NOT to shoot them for it.

_Natural selection. Ain't just a good idea, kids -- it's the LAW_.

Still, something stayed his hand. Maybe it was the tantalizing prospect of actually getting through a patrol _without_ getting shot up for once. Maybe it was gratitude towards the pair for unwittingly aiding him in his revenge against Optimus. Maybe it was common sense pointing out that these two were possibly the most harmless of Predacons, and that shooting them without provocation would be a waste of ammo.

_Or maybe I'm just a big sap_. Rattrap sighed in defeat, lowering his weapon before he'd even raised it halfway. _Eh, okay, so I can't bring myself to shoot 'em while they're enjoying themselves. I'll wait 'till they're done_.

He turned to motion for Dinobot to fall back... and found the velociraptor already gone. Surprised, he whipped around and did a quick, frantic scan, fighting off a flash of panic (_He didn't just leave me, did he?_), before he spotted his patrol partner. The raptor's scaly tail was retreating so fast it was already nearly out of sight. Rattrap let out a low yelp of frustration, stowed the vid-recorder, reverted to beastmode and scurried after him.

He had to run full-out to catch up to the raptor, even though Dinobot was walking. He was walking QUICKLY, with a stride that exclaimed, _I'm getting the hell out of here_. He didn't glance back as Rattrap bounded up behind him, panting loudly, unable to shout for fear of alerting the Predacons. When the rat was almost alongside the raptor, he hissed out loudly, "Where the _slag_ are you going?"

Immediately he was confronted by a mouthful of flesh-slicing teeth bared in a menacing snarl. Rat instincts went into red-alert mode and Rattrap skidded to a halt, falling over on his tail. For the second time in as many days, he felt that he was inches away from death.

- - - - -

**A/N**: I hate cliffhangers when other authors use them, but can seldom resist the opportunity to put one in myself. Why is that?

Anyway, feedback is always appreciated and may even make me update faster. I will only reply to reviews that contain a question or comment I feel needs addressing, however (it saves a lot of space). Big shout-out of "THANK YOU!" to the rest of you guys.


	3. Cut 'Em Off At The Faux Pas

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 3)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'm hoping this makes up for it. Some fairly mild violence (nothing compared to how these boys usually play), more sexual tension and Predacons being jerks. In no particular order. Enjoy.

- - - - -

The moment lasted only a nano-klik. A glimmer of sanity returned to the wild reptilian eyes and Dinobot withdrew, giving Rattrap space to start breathing again. As soon as he regained the power of speech, the rat exploded.

"WHAT is _wrong_ with you?" he shouted, no longer caring if Preds heard him or not. "You finally flipped your lid? Ain't said a word all morning, then you try to ditch me, _then_ you nearly bite my head off for NO SLAGGIN' REASON--" Dinobot growled, but Rattrap was beyond fear now; he actually rose up on his short hind legs to yell in his face. "Don't you growl at _me_! We're out in the wilderness, got Preds lurkin' around, Op's countin' on us and I can't trust my damn patrol partner! Now whatever problem you got with me, spit it out so we can deal with it, otherwise you're gonna get us both ki--"

He found himself on his butt again, not surprisingly. At least Dinobot had only backhanded him with one skinny raptor forelimb instead of using his teeth or claws. All the same, Rattrap fell silent, glaring sullenly at the larger 'bot.

At last Dinobot spoke, his voice a low hiss. "Keep shouting, rodent, and you're likely to bring the entire Predacon base down on our heads! If _you_ insist on quarreling, at least wait until we return to the ship!"

"If **I** insist --?" _Oh, that __**tears**__ it_. Rattrap transformed to robot mode and stood, balling up his fists. "Alright, let's do this, you and me! Right here!"

Dinobot actually took a step back. "Have you gone insane?"

_Good question_. Rattrap's common sense was wondering the same, but he was long past the point of listening to it. "Shaddup and fight me, lizard lips!" He punctuated the challenge by slugging the velociraptor on his sensitive snout.

With a roar, the warrior transformed. Rattrap was lifted off the ground with an embarrassing lack of effort and slammed up against a very tall boulder with a _crunch_. It hurt, but he didn't have long to focus on it before realizing Dinobot's face was inches from his, fangs bared... and optics glowing green.

_Oh, no_.

At the last second, the warrior's head jerked to one side. His optic lasers sheered off a chunk of the boulder just a few inches from Rattrap's head. The rock fell to the grass with a heavy thud, and Rattrap involuntarily winced. Dinobot's gaze returned to him, crimson again but still bright with anger.

"Have I gotten through to your senses?" he demanded. "Are you _quite_ finished malfunctioning?"

Rattrap did not reply right away. He was in a daze, partly from fear, but mostly in shock at his own actions and his continued existence in spite of them. _I just gave you every reason in the world to slag me, an' you chose to warn me instead. I practically shove my head in your mouth an' don't lose a whisker. Hell, Boss Monkey woulda knocked me on my aft if I'd done that to 'im. An' you're the one I keep sayin' we can't trust._ Dinobot kept proving him wrong -- about Predacons, about loyalty, about the warrior's own intelligence and his capacity for self-control. Rattrap could almost swear he did it out of spite, just to make the rat feel guilty.

_Hope you're proud a' yourself then, Dinobreath, 'cause ya know what? It's workin'._

Rattrap heaved a sigh that seemed to let out everything at once. He looked away, knowing pride would choke him if he tried to say it to Dinobot's face: "I--I'm sorry." He barely heard himself, and wasn't sure the warrior had until he suddenly froze.

"Hnh?" He imagined Chopperface's expression would be pretty funny if he could bring himself to look at it. "I... don't believe I heard that correctly." No sarcasm, just genuine disbelief. How ironic.

Exasperation allowed Rattrap to raise his head and look the raptor dead in the optics. "I'm sorry, okay? I--I was outta line. Don't know what got into me."

_Oh yeah, that expression's priceless. Wish I had a camera. May as well've told him I'm a slave-dancer from Charr, it might shock 'im less_.

With a low, worried growl, Dinobot set Rattrap carefully down on his feet. "Must be worse than I thought. Perhaps I hit you too hard--"

"_What?_" Rattrap brushed him away, annoyed. "I'm fine, lizard lips. Can't I apologize for actin' like a jerk?"

Dinobot considered the rhetorical question carefully. "I suppose it is possible you possess the ability, though I can't recall ever seeing you use it.

_Yee-owch. Okay, so I deserved that_. "You got a point -- STILL. I'm tryin' to be serious here, so stop lookin' at me like that!"

"Hnh." The warrior continued to regard him warily, as if he might suddenly sprout an extra head and start breathing fire. "Forgive me for doubting your sincerity, rodent, but your recent behavior has been far from rational. You've assaulted me twice in the last 24 hours--"

"'Scuse me, WHAT?" Confusion and exasperation spiked again, and Rattrap's volume rose with it. _Is he kidding? No way he's serious_. "When did I assault you? Y'mean yesterd--"

"That's EXACTLY what I mean, vermin." Dinobot's voice had risen too. Just like that, they were shouting at each other again. "In case your memory's glitched, you _leaped_ on me, _bit_ my face--"

"_BIT?_" Rattrap's head was spinning. "I _kissed_ you, ya bone-headed--" Too late, his brain started to draw the logical conclusions, momentarily striking him dumb. _He does know what kissing is, doesn't he? DOES he? Oh slag, he doesn't. Primus, he doesn't know what it meant_--

Before he could figure out what to do, what to _say_, and before Dinobot could snap out a retort... both of them were interrupted by shrill, raucous laughter.

"I love Maximal drama!" crowed Terrorsaur from his perch on a boulder twenty yards away. Waspinator hovered above his shoulder, both of them in their beastmodes now. The quarreling pair hadn't even noticed them arrive, attracted by the noise no doubt, and Rattrap had no idea how much they'd heard... but it was enough to give Terrorsaur no end of amusement.

"Almozzt look like Maximalzz slag each other! Zzave Predaconzz the trouble!" Waspinator giggled like a child.

Dinobot seemed less amused. "Get lost, pests!" His optics flared green, and Terrorsaur launched quickly into the air as lasers cut his perch in half. Undaunted, the pterosaur began circling above them, still hurling taunts.

"Don't take it out on us, old comrade. With friends like yours, who needs enemies? _Rrawk!_ Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the look on Megatron's face if he heard about this!"

Waspinator droned cheerfully in the background. "Lizzard-bot and Rat-bot, zzitting in a treeee..."

Dinobot didn't get the reference, but he was plenty ticked anyway. "Hold still, and you can both crawl back to Megatron with your wings clipped!" He fired another optic blast, this time at the singing wasp, who dodged it neatly.

"Save your power, Chopperface. I'll deal with these goons." Rattrap made a show of cupping his hands to his mouth and called up, "Hey, Terrorsaur!"

"Eh?"

"How'd you like to see the look on Megs's face when he sees _this_?" Rattrap held up the vid-recorder, knowing both 'bots would be able to make out what it was just fine. "Got some great footage o' you an' Bug-Eyes on it. Reeeal interestin'. Seen a lot o' weird matin' rituals since I came to this planet, but--"

Terrorsaur let out a strangled squawk; even Waspinator had gone silent. "No! You sneaky little _rat_! Give it to me!" He transformed to robot mode -- unfortunately pausing in midair to do so. Dinobot's next blast nailed him square in the chest. It exploded against his magnetic shields and the concussive blast knocked him out of the sky. Immediately Waspinator shot back; Dinobot threw up an arm instinctively and the blast cooked the scales right off of it. Rattrap smelled burning flesh and lost it. He shot Waspinator's gun clean out of his hand, then pegged the bug with two more quick rounds that sent him spinning down out of sight.

From somewhere among the rocks came Terrorsaur's reedy, cracked voice. "Give us the recorder, Ratface!" He tried to sound demanding, but this was negated by his wheedling tone and the fact that he was clearly afraid to show his face.

"Nuh-uh." Rattrap tucked the recorder neatly back into its storage nook. "I'm keepin' this baby as insurance. You two make trouble for us again, an' I find a way to leak this to Megs. Bet he'd love to know what his fliers get up to when he sends 'em out to scout the enemy."

There was indignant sputtering and then silence. Rattrap shot a glance at Dinobot who, he was relieved to see, looked to be only superficially damaged. "C'mon, ya walkin' fossil. Mission accomplished. Let's get outta here."

Dinobot looked over at the boulders that hid their fallen foes. "The Predacons are damaged. This is a good chance to finish them off."

Rattrap sighed wearily. "Dinobot, they ain't the only ones damaged. We rush 'em now and we'll have one tough fight on our hands. Preds don't die easily." The warrior nodded reluctant agreement; eager for a scrap or no, Rattrap had a feeling he was glad for the excuse. _Let 'em lick their wounds, or (Ugh) each other's. We've had enough drama for one morning_.

Once they'd gained a little distance and were sure the Predacons weren't following, they reverted to beastmode. Energon levels were fairly low in this sector (probably the reason for Terrorsaur and Waspinator choosing it as a "rendezvous point"), but Rattrap could still feel the first uncomfortable tingles of energy build-up. The fur coat came in handy sometimes, even if this form lacked weapons to speak of.

"Slag."

Dinobot's tone made the rat glance at him in a hurry. He saw immediately what was wrong. The raptor's lower hindleg (which became his forearm in robot mode) was largely exposed, charred metal showing where the skin had burned off. Without the organic covering, Dinobot was still exposed to energon bombardment, albeit at a slower rate. It was a frustration they'd had to deal with many times since landing on this planet. The beast forms were fragile, and if they were breached they lost most of their effectiveness.

"Well, ain't that just _Prime_." Rattrap shook his head as he looked at the wound. "Least you can walk... Think you'll make it home okay?" He couldn't help but remember how long it had taken them to get here. "Maybe I should call Primal fer a pickup--"

Dinobot snorted. "We have little enough manpower at the base as it is. And I _can_ walk, rodent. All I need to do is patch the wound." He looked Rattrap over thoughtfully. "You carry adhesive sealant strips, do you not?"

"Yeah, I-- Wait. _Wait_. You're not sayin' you're gonna try to walk home with electrical tape wrapped around your leg?" Dinobot just stared at him with a flat expression, and Rattrap smacked himself on the forehead. "What am I sayin'. Of course you are." With a sigh, he transformed and produced a roll of the sturdy tape; if nothing else, it was great as an insulator. "Fine, but you're gonna let me wrap it for you. This is closer to my line o' work."

The raptor glared coolly. "I can bind my own wounds, vermin. I have some... practice."

_Don't doubt THAT for a second, you stubborn slagger_. "Bet I can do it faster, practice or no; an' besides, those claws o' yours'll shred the stuff. Now lie down and lemme get to work!"

Dinobot complied, surprisingly, without further argument. He stretched out his leg so that Rattrap could reach, then looked steadfastly away as the spy knelt and began "field repairs." Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, though there wasn't the sense of strain and tension that had accompanied the earlier silence. At least that wall had been broken. _If nothin' else, Preds and missions gone wrong'll do that every time_.

"Few more strips'll do it," Rattrap soon announced. Then, because the raptor often gave no visible indication of pain or discomfort even when he _was_ feeling it, he added: "How ya holdin' up? I'm tryin' not to be too rough here."

A low huff that could almost have been a chuckle. "Rough? I can hardly feel that." Something in Dinobot's tone made it sound like he wasn't being _quite_ truthful, but it wasn't pain. Rattrap's face heated slightly and he wondered if the raptor would notice the tremor in his hands. Swallowing, he tore off another strip and began laying it carefully over those in place, reinforcing them.

"Eh-- What can I say? I got a light touch." Great, now his _voice_ was trembling. This was getting awkward fast.

"Indeed." The raptor sounded almost teasing now, knocking another chip out of Rattrap's eroding self-control. "I noticed. Even when throwing a punch."

The spy cringed as his thoughts were wrenched onto another track -- a guilty one again. "I know, that was stupid o' me. I promise it ain't gonna happen again."

"Do not kill yourself with concern, rodent." (Was he crazy, or did it sound like the big lizard was trying to _reassure_ him?) "I've had much worse. By the Pit, _Terrorsaur_ swings harder than you, never mind Meg-- the other Predacons."

Rattrap didn't miss the last-minute amendment of his statement. He didn't know whether it was for his own benefit (perhaps even Dinobot thought comparing him to Megatron was a bit harsh) or because Dinobot just didn't want to discuss that particular subject. Either way, he let it go, but made note of it for later. Laying down one last strip of tape, he said firmly, "Whatever your Pred buddies do to each other--" _to you_ "-- doesn't make it right. We ain't like that, or at least we try not to be. Anyway, you've taken more'n enough o' that slag-- you don't need it from _me_."

He hesitated, then laid one small hand tentatively on the raptor's thigh, his robot-mode's upper arm. The skin was thick and pebbly but surprisingly soft, and could detect the touch without a doubt. When Dinobot didn't growl or make any move to pull away, a quiet elation rose in Rattrap's Spark. He gave the leg a quick pat and then stood, stowing his remaining supplies and reverting to beastmode.

"Better get movin'," he said briskly, leaving the topic alone for the time being (for both their benefit). "I trust my handiwork, but I wouldn't wanna trust it too long."

There was a low grunt as Dinobot stood, flexing the injured leg carefully to test the strength of its bindings. "I'm rather surprised Optimus Primal has not contacted us by now."

Rattrap wasn't. "Eh, I think he plans to leave us undisturbed for a while. Hopin' that we'll clear the air, y'know?" He paused, worried that the tension might return once the mission was over. "So... Are we cool? Me an' you?"

He was expecting a comeback or perhaps for the question to be ignored. Instead, he was rocked to the core as Dinobot looked at him -- _Did his eyes always do that to me before, or is this new?_ -- for a long moment before nodding. He could swear the corners of those lizard lips turned up in a whisper of a smile. "So long as you stay downwind of me on the return trip, vermin."

The familiar slight made Rattrap's Spark leap clear out of its chamber. He couldn't restrain a giddy laugh. "Don't worry, I'll be watchin' your tail the whole way back. Just keep your nose in the wind, Chopperface."

_Ya know, I think everything might just turn out all right after all_.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes**: So now everything's going to go to hell, of course. Great job thinking optimistically, vermin. :P

Glad you're all enjoying this. I know there's not nearly enough available on this pairing and I'm trying to be careful with characterization. I do thrive on encouragement though, so please, keep the feedback flowing.


	4. Green With Envy

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 4)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Now we get to see a bit of others' reaction to this whole thing, starting with Rhinox. (Winces) Did I ever mention I don't like him much? It probably shows. Still, I tried to keep him as much in step with what I saw in the show as possible.

- - - - -

In the dark, close confinement of the CR chamber, Dinobot dreamed.

Restless lips formed inarticulate words, then peeled back to flash teeth at an unseen foe. Claws twitched nervously, clutching into talons and then releasing, as shivers and jolts of movement rippled down the powerful arms. A low growl built deep in the chest, began to rise... and was abruptly cut off as if with a sword. Then movement ceased, and a crimson glow illuminated the walls of the chamber as optics warmed to life.

Dinobot immediately recognized his surroundings. They were familiar enough by now, if not exactly a welcome sight. He did not like the chambers, which gave him a sensation of being trapped -- he much preferred the open tanks offered by the Predacons -- but he had learned to tolerate them out of necessity. At least he no longer experienced a panic attack every time he woke in one. Nevertheless, he had no desire to linger.

He thumped the sensory panel on the inside of the door and the hatch sprang open. There was a hiss of pressurized air and a short-lived cloud of steam, which gave way to Cheetor's face. Dinobot almost walked right into him stepping out of the chamber, and was reaching for his sword when he caught himself.

_It's only the cub. Get ahold of yourself_. Fortunately, Cheetor wasn't the sort to notice the almost-lapse of control.

"Cat, I've warned you many times against hovering outside this chamber while I'm in it." He tried to stare him down, but Cheetor didn't seem to get the message, and his smile didn't waver. Among many Maximal mysteries Dinobot felt he would never understand, why the kid was still alive ranked near the top of the list. He gave up. "What is it you want, anyway?"

"Just thought I'd check on ya. Rattrap said you got shot up on patrol."

"As you can see, I've been fully repaired." The warrior had no patience for small talk and brushed Cheetor aside. "If that is all, furball..."

Apparently it wasn't, for Cheetor tagged along after him uninvited. "You goin' out again? Today, I mean?"

"After I've refueled... Probably." Dinobot generally spent as little of his waking time in the base as possible. It was small, cramped, stank of mammals (who lacked respect for personal space even when their lives depended on it), and offered little recreation to suit his tastes. Besides, the perimeter always needed patrolling, and he knew it better than perhaps anyone except Tigatron, who was far inferior as a warrior.

"Cool," Cheetor chirped. "I was just, uh, wondering... d'you need any backup?"

_He MUST be joking_. Dinobot whirled swiftly, bringing them both to a halt. "What _exactly_ prompts you to ask, runt?" Ever guarded against accusations, he went quickly into defensive mode. "If you think being damaged by Waspinator casts doubt on my abilities as a warrior, I will _gladly_ correct you."

Even Cheetor recognized the danger this time. He took a hasty step back, bringing his arms up. "Whoa, hey, chill out! I didn't mean it like that. I'm just bored, is all. I thought I might find something to do outside."

_Of course. I should have assumed as much_. Somewhat chastened, Dinobot covered his embarrassment with customary gruffness. "Perhaps Optimus can find you 'something to do' within the base. I prefer to patrol alone."

"I know, but... It was actually Big Bot's idea. He said I had to ask you myself, though." Cheetor looked at him hopefully, and Dinobot cursed Optimus yet again. He _could_ just tell the cat to get lost, but... those EYES.

"Very well. If you're still determined to accompany me when I've finished refuelling -- _and_ if you're ready to leave the minute I call for you -- you may join me on patrol. Otherwise, you can find someone else to pester."

Either missing the annoyed tone or choosing to ignore it, Cheetor grinned. "All right! I'll wait for you at the lift. Just lemme go tell Optimus." He bounded off without waiting for another word from the raptor.

_With any luck, he'll grow bored with waiting and seek some other recreation_. Given the state of his luck lately, however, Dinobot doubted it. It looked as if his afternoon would be spent babysitting.

- - - - -

"I take it you two are talking again."

Rhinox's tone was rather dark, considering Rattrap's obvious cheerfulness as the latter sauntered into the command center to take his turn watching the monitors. The spy shrugged and hopped into his seat, spinning it once a full 360 and then kicking his feet up on the console. "Eh, we got a couple things sorted out. Knew Chopperface couldn't keep his mouth shut for long. Everythin's back to normal now."

Annoyed, Rhinox swatted his feet off. "You're in one hell of a good mood. I wouldn't call that normal."

_Well, I WAS in a good mood, anyway_. "So what?" Rattrap groused, rubbing his ankle. "What's YOUR malfunction?"

Rhinox turned away, apparently putting his attention back on the monitors. He didn't answer right away, so Rattrap made a face at his back and proceeded to ignore him.

A few cycles later, Rhinox spoke again out of the blue. "I'd be careful if I was you."

Rattrap didn't turn around. "I'm always careful, big guy, but thanks for the tip." He was trying to sound lighthearted, but there was acid in his tone.

"He's a Predacon. You may think you're cool with him, but he doesn't think like the rest of us. You take too many risks with him. The one you took yesterday almost got you killed." He spun his chair to face Rattrap again. "What were you thinking? You act like this is some sort of game!"

"Game, huh?" Rattrap turned as well, leaning forward as he spoke, keeping his voice low but intense. "You thought I was playin'? I've never been more serious in my life, Rhinox. You wanna know what I was _thinkin'_ -- I'll tell ya. I was thinkin' about that bomb an' how we almost never saw our friends again, an' how it woulda _killed_ me if he never came back, how's that? I was so glad to see him I coulda kissed him, an' that's _exactly_ what I did! I don't care how dangerous it was, I'd slaggin' do it again!"

Rhinox's fist slammed the console so hard it caused the screens to flicker. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded. "Rattrap, he's tried to _eat_ you! He's more dangerous than the other Predacons put together, because they're out _there_ and he's in _here_. Every klik you're around him is a roll of the dice, and you keep stacking the odds higher! _Why?_"

Rattrap didn't miss the gambling reference. Presumably it was the big lug's attempt to get through to him with familiar metaphors, but in his current mood it felt like a stab at his habits, which just inflamed him all the more. "Know what, Rhinox? It ain't none o' your business. Way I figure it, we're all gonna die anyway, so I get to decide what risks to take. Not you. Not Optimus--"

A huge green finger rammed him in the chest. "I'm the one that gets to put your parts back together after Dinobot scraps you! Damn right it's my business!"

Rattrap actually flinched back in his seat for a second... then grabbed Rhinox's finger and shoved it away. "If he was gonna scrap me, he'd a' done it a long time ago. Sure, he almost killed me yesterday, but he didn't. I give 'im plenty o' reason to, so how come I'm still around, if he's so slaggin' dangerous?"

"He knows he'd find himself in pieces a few kliks after deactivating you, that's why. I said he was dangerous, not stupid." Nevertheless, Rhinox threw up his hands and backed off. "I can tell you're not in the mood to listen to reason. Just watch yourself, will you? I don't want to have to salvage you for spare parts. Or _him_."

The spy's brow furrowed. "That a warning or a threat, big guy?"

"Either way, I'd just rather not see it happen."

Rattrap was trying to think of a reply when Cheetor's voice spoke up behind them. "See what happen? Who's threatening who?"

They both spun around, looking guilty. "It's nothin', kid," Rattrap told him. "Don't worry about it." Cheetor didn't seem convinced; the tension in the room must've been palpable even to him, because he glanced nervously from one to the other.

Rhinox went back to monitoring, and Rattrap tried to appear casual. "So uh, whaddya up to, Spots? Come up here for the scenery?"

"Ah-Actually, Dinobot's taking me on patrol." The temperature of the command center seemed to drop a few degrees as the name was spoken. Rattrap glanced at Rhinox, but the Big Green was pretending to ignore him. That suited the rat just fine. He'd heard enough lecturin' for one day.

"Really? That's great. Just, uh, make sure he doesn't _eat_ you or nothin'. Cause, universe knows, you can't trust dem _Predacons_." He directed this last at Rhinox, who still didn't look up, but scowled at his monitor and clenched his fists with an audible creaking sound.

Cheetor, of course, missed the exchange entirely and rolled his optics. "Honestly, Rattrap, wouldja give it a rest? Sure, he's kinda surly, but Dinobot's one of us. I don't get why you can't trust him. Optimus trusts him--"

"Optimus," grumbled Rhinox loudly enough for the young mech to hear, "trusts far too easily."

Rattrap whirled on him again. "An' some of us only put trust where it's _deserved_, Boltbrain."

"What -- you're saying he doesn't deserve it?" Cheetor asked hotly, still misunderstanding. Neither bothered to acknowledge him now that the argument was back in full swing.

"In that case, maybe _some_ of us need to have their processors checked!"

"An' _some_ of us need to keep their big horned noses outta what don't concern them!"

"Well, when others are behaving completely irrationally, _somebody_ has to be concerned--"

"Can it already, ya paranoid bucket o' bolts!"

Rhinox stood, Rattrap held up his arms, and Cheetor took two quick steps back before anyone had time to think. Amid the tightly-strung tension, the large mech learned over very slowly until his face was inches from Rattrap's, hands gripping either side of the chair. "I'm off duty," he said very softly, an unmistakeable growl in his voice. "Enjoy your shift."

He stood and without glancing at either of them again, headed for the door. There he almost ran smack into Dinobot. Only Cheetor saw; Rattrap seemed shaken and still hadn't turned around. There was a swift exchange of glances between the two large mechs that Cheetor didn't want to be anywhere near; either one looked like they could melt him through the floor. He half expected Dinobot's eyes to start glowing green, with that look on his face. Rhinox's fists clenched again and Dinobot's fingers twitched as if to grasp a sword...

Then Rhinox shoved him aside and continued on his way without a word. Cheetor let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wasn't sure what had just happened, or what had _almost_ happened. Even Dinobot looked a little confused.

"Hey, Dinobot!" Cheetor couldn't help but sound relieved. "Ready whenever you are."

Rattrap had spun around in his chair as soon as he heard the greeting, and after acknowledging Cheetor with a gruff nod, Dinobot looked straight at him. This exchange confused the cheetah even more. It was still intense, and neither of them were smiling, but somehow it lacked any hostility whatsoever. Cheetor's only thought was, _Whoa!_ And then he found himself looking away, like he'd been intruding on something private.

Almost as soon as he did so, the moment broke and Dinobot moved past him toward the lift, transforming as he did so. Cheetor followed but cast one last look back at Rattrap.

The spy looked a little dazed, like he'd forgotten where he was. Then, with the big lizard's back to him, he suddenly broke into a grin. Not just a smirk -- his whole _face_ lit up. He twisted back around to his console and started tapping at the controls, humming almost inaudibly to himself.

Shaking his head, the cat transformed and stepped into the lift. _Am I losing my mind, or is everyone else in the base losing theirs?_

- - - - -

**Author's Note**: None. How's that, kids? Just keep reading and let me know what you think, or I'll stop writing.


	5. While The Cat Is Away

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 5)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Dinobot and Cheetor together are one of the funniest things known in the universe. Why the devil didn't the show do this more often?

- - - - -

The hare bolted, zigzagging nimbly over the broken ground as a young cheetah streaked after, nearly tripping over himself in excitement. The chase lasted about three seconds before the hare disappeared into a stand of tall grass, leaving the disappointed cat to pace back and forth with lashing tail and a hopeful expression, prey having outwitted him once again.

Dinobot sighed. _Almost half a megacycle this time. His attention span does seem to be improving_. He growled sharply and Cheetor raced back to join him, no less energetic than when they'd started out, despite breaking off frequently to menace the local wildlife. _No wonder Optimus wanted to get him out of the base_. "If you wish to sharpen your hunting skills, cat, I suggest you wait until we find a Predacon scout. This is a patrol, not a game."

"Aw, lighten up, Dinobot. It's not like you need me anyway." Cheetor batted teasingly at the raptor's long tail as it swung his way. "You could probably take on three or four Preds by yourself."

No point denying the truth, and Dinobot allowed himself a small smirk. "No doubt, but I would prefer to avoid the complication of looking after _your_ hide as well. It would be all too tempting to leave you behind."

"Nah, you wouldn't do that. You've got that honor thing, for one."

_Of course... that 'honor thing'. These Maximals know nothing_. Dinobot paused midstride and fixed Cheetor with a cold glare. "Predacon honor demands that others pay for their own carelessness, even if it proves fatal. I ask no one to take responsibility for _my_ life, furball, and I will not take responsibility for yours, is that clear?"

Cheetor blinked. "But... you do it all the time. Take responsibility for us, I mean. When I fell behind, last time, you wouldn't leave me even though you said we weren't gonna get clear in--"

"That was different," said the raptor as he resumed walking. "You were not at fault in that case. I might abandon a comrade who was injured by his own stupidity, but not in battle. _That_ would be dishonorable, yes."

The younger Maximal seemed to absorb that for a moment. "So... you're not mad at me over that? I mean, I kinda thought I'd screwed up--"

"_Hnh_. If you were at fault, I would have let you know. In no uncertain terms," Dinobot growled. "Unlike Optimus, I will not overlook potentially fatal mistakes in order to spare your feelings."

"Well... Thanks, then."

He actually sounded sincere. The warrior had no idea how to respond to that or if a response was required at all, so he chose not to acknowledge it. They walked in silence for a few moments -- after Cheetor's constant chatter and activity, Dinobot actually found it unsettling. Fortunately a large bird flushed from cover as they passed a thick clump of brush, and Cheetor took off after it, breaking the awkwardness.

Returning empty-mouthed a minute later, the cat resumed chattering. "What happened after we got back? I was half scrapped. I don't remember much except Big Bot putting me in the CR chamber --" He paused briefly. "Did Rattrap really kiss you, or was that me fritzing?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it jolted Dinobot to a halt. Cheetor nearly bumped into him, and displayed more common sense than usual by skittering back a few steps, just out of reach. "Dinobot?"

It took a moment for the warrior's mind to return to the present. "Yes, what?" he snapped.

Cheetor edged forward. "Guess I didn't imagine it, did I?"

Dinobot resumed walking at a quickened pace, lashing his tail in agitation. Cheetor followed and began babbling nervously. "I thought I probably did at first, because it didn't really make sense. I mean, Rattrap cares, but he doesn't show it a lot, you know? I've never seen him act like that before. And he usually pretends he hates you -- I know he doesn't really, but --"

"The rat's opinions are known to me," snapped Dinobot, cutting him off. "I still don't understand the motive for his attack." He snapped at a harmless lizard sitting near their path, sending it scurrying away in fright.

"Attack? But, Dinobot--"

The warrior slashed his way through a tangle of vines as they entered the forest. "It was all I could do" -- he snapped a large branch in half, venting his anger on his surroundings -- "not to lop his head from his shoulders! I knew he was a senseless" -- _CRACK_ went another branch -- "idiotic" -- birds took off in alarm as a swat of his tail set a sapling swaying -- "hair-brained little beast, but I didn't think he was suicidal." His foot came down on a small log, sending splinters in all directions. Cheetor watched his rampage with some concern, realizing he'd set it off but uncertain how to stop it. At least he was starting to understand what Dinobot was so slagged off about: There was a serious misunderstanding here.

"Um, Dinobot, I don't think he meant to attack you. I think he was trying to say he was glad to see you."

The warrior turned, confusion and consternation actually _deepening_ on his face. "You mean," he snarled, "that -- _THAT_ is something Maximals do when they're GLAD to see you?" _What in the Inferno do they do if they're NOT?_

"No-no, not all Maximals. Just some." Cheetor shrugged, as if to say he didn't really get it either. "I think it might actually be a human thing. Optimus said we picked up a lot of things from them three hundred years ago. Things we didn't do before."

_Ah. Human madness. Not Maximal madness_. Dinobot regained some of his composure with a sneer. "Fortunately, Predacon culture was never contaminated by such organic nonsense." At least it could begin to explain the rodent's behavior. He hadn't been acting at random -- he'd been following some bizarre human ritual. But _why_?

"Tell me more about this depravity, Cheetor. I find I have a sudden... interest in the cultures of Earth."

As they continued on their patrol route, Cheetor filled him in to the best of his ability -- which, as it turned out, wasn't much. Interspecies cultural study wasn't the cat's strong point. Nonetheless, he did his best to explain Rattrap's behavior and added one or two insights Dinobot wouldn't have expected of him, conclusions he hadn't been able to draw on his own.

One, locking mouths together was a sign of affection. Cheetor wasn't sure _exactly_ what it signified, but he was certain on that point. It was something you only did with people you were at least close friends with. That finally ruled it out as an aggressive gesture in Dinobot's mind; though still perplexing, it was no longer alarming.

Two, Rattrap had been upset about it -- or more likely, by Dinobot's reaction. Apparently he spent several megacycles locked in his quarters afterward, and when Cheetor stopped by to talk, he wouldn't come out or even open the door. And just before they left, the kid said, Rattrap and Rhinox were having a big argument about something. He didn't know what, but Dinobot had definitely been a part of it.

"It was really bad. I've heard 'em fight before, but man, not like _this_. They're best friends usually. When Rhinox stood up, I seriously thought he was gonna knock Rattrap out of his chair. I think Rattrap thought he was, too. But he stormed out instead, and then you came in--" He faltered.

"I see." Dinobot remembered well enough; the rhino had looked as if he would very much like an excuse to shoot the Predacon. If he _had_ taken out that anger on Rattrap before the warrior arrived...

"Dinobot?" Cheetor sounded worried, and the raptor realized he'd begun to growl out loud.

He stopped and gave the cat what he hoped was a reassuring look... and a thought struck him. "Hmm. Cheetor. I wonder if I could ask you a... favor."

"Huh?" The kid's expression said, _Did I just hear that right?_ "Yeah, sure. What do you need?"

_Bless the child; he may be possessed of only half a working processor, but his desire to be helpful knows no bounds_. Dinobot had used that trait for far less noble purposes in the past, manipulating Cheetor to serve his own ends, though he no longer found it necessary (and besides, Optimus had started to catch on). This, however, was not a self-serving request, and oddly, he was finding it more difficult to make as a result. The words came haltingly. "I'm... not so trusted by the others, still. They do not speak their minds around me." He was only stating facts, not looking for sympathy, and continued to the point before Cheetor could offer any. "You, however, seem to have a good grasp of interactions in the base --" _by which I mean you're an incorrigible gossip_ "-- and a perceptiveness of others which I... lack. If you witness anything unusual -- by Maximal standards," he amended quickly, "I would like to hear about it. Particularly if it concerns the vermin."

Cheetor looked at him wide-eyed, oh-so-disbelieving. "You want me to _spy_ on them?"

The raptor snorted loudly before he could protest further. "_Please_. I know better than that. You wouldn't if I asked. I simply want to know what's going on behind my back, since so much of it apparently involves me. Optimus doesn't tell me a damn thing, so I'm asking you."

The cheetah still looked doubtful, but after a moment he nodded. "All right... just as long as you're not asking me to spy on my friends. Just tell you if anything weird happens, right? Like what?"

"I leave that to your discretion. Whatever you think I should know. Primus forbid you reveal any Maximal secrets," Dinobot couldn't resist adding, with a show of teeth that might have been a smile. "Just keep an eye on the vermin, and especially inform me if he has any further trouble with Rhinox. That situation... concerns me."

"Why? D'you think Rhinox will--" Cheetor trailed off, looking at Dinobot questioningly as if waiting for him to finish the sentence. "I mean, I don't think he'd actually hurt Rattrap, not really. Do you?"

"I would not put it past him." They reached a small clearing when Dinobot suddenly halted, looking the younger mech dead in the eye. "Listen to me. Predacons do not trust each other because we know what we are capable of. We have no illusions about our comrades; we know their negative qualities all too well. Unfortunately, this means we seldom see anything else. Maximals all too often have the opposite problem: they see only the good. Do you understand?"

Green eyes met his, warring between confusion and conviction. "Optimus says that seeing the good in others is a Maximal strength."

A dubious snort. "Perhaps. But you often fail to see the darkness, and _that_ is a weakness. You are blind to each other's flaws, and thus can never fully understand your own comrades."

"And you can?" asked Cheetor defiantly.

"Indeed. I see Optimus's unwillingness to make sacrifices endanger you all again and again. I see that Tigatron is a coward who hides his lack of commitment to your cause behind a mask of false pacifism. I know that the vermin would be a Predacon if not for his guilty conscience, and he hates us for thinking so like him. Yes, cat, I understand you all too well."

The voice of Optimus, which had long since taken residence in Dinobot's head, began to berate him for sowing suspicion in Cheetor's mind and trying to turn him against his own kind. The warrior silenced it. _This is something you will never teach him, and someone should try. Besides, the cat is gullible, but he's loyal to a fault. He'll most likely not listen to a word I say_.

_Then why even bother?_ whispered his inner Predacon. He silenced that voice too. In truth, he didn't know why it mattered to him.

"And Rhinox?" Cheetor insisted, though it looked as if he were afraid of the answer.

Dinobot leaned close and spoke very softly. "He _frightens_ me, Cheetor, and I do not use that term lightly. I have no doubt that he is hiding something." He withdrew into himself for a moment, chasing a fragment of half-formed thought, then shook his head. "But of course, you don't see that. Nor does Optimus. My suspicions can be dismissed as Predacon paranoia, because it is easier to distrust me than to distrust one of your own."

He turned away. "The sun is setting. We should start heading back to base."

The raptor began walking, but a mutter from Cheetor stopped him. "Dinobot? I... I trust you. I don't like what you're saying, but I know you're not lying to me. I'll let you know if anything happens, okay?"

Dinobot half-glanced back over his shoulder, to where the cat's eyes shone in the deepening gloom. Then he looked away.

"Thank you," he said shortly, and set off for home with the feline following.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes**: As one reviewer pointed out, Rhinox is very loyal... to his core group of Maximals. He never accepted Dinobot or seemed to give half a piss about any of the others, save perhaps Airazor whom he sort of brought into the world. That, and his occasional and very alarming bursts of temper (which were so disturbing BECAUSE he seemed like such a calm guy the rest of the time), were responsible for his portrayal in this fic. Simply put, this is a situation he is NOT happy with, for a prolific number of reasons, and so we're going to see him at his worst (something most of the Maximals have never seen).

Hey, I promised you drama. On the upside, there will be actual interaction between Dinobot and Rattrap next chap, which I'm sure you're all relieved to hear. (All what, four or five of you?)

Leave review! Or Rattrap will leave his garbage in your room.


	6. Tongue Tied Round The Foot In My Mouth

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 6)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: This chapter contains big-butt jokes. Not meant to offend. Also, Primal has a filthy mind, apparently.

- - - - -

Rattrap couldn't recall the name of the tune he was humming, or exactly where he'd picked it up, though he was reasonably sure it'd been a bar somewhere. The lyrics were a jumble of Cybertronian and a smattering of Terran languages, awkward at best and borderline nonsense at worst, but the beat was easy to follow. He threw in scraps of other songs for flavor and invented his own bridges, playing with pitch and speed as he went. All this required only a tiny fraction of his attention. A slightly larger fraction -- perhaps a fifth -- was on the monitors, another sixth or so was on the console game in the lower right-hand corner (which he was currently losing), and the rest was somewhere else entirely, far from the mortal realm.

When he was jolted back to reality by a datapad slapped down in front of him, the spy let out a yelp of surprise. "Eh, what?"

Primal's face loomed over his shoulder, scowling. "I just finished your report."

"Oh?" Rattrap leaned back, a cheery grin spreading over his face. "Find it enlightenin', boss?"

The corners of the gorilla's mouth twitched. "Remind me to never get you _really_ slagged off. Are you satisfied, or should I look for any more unpleasant surprises?"

Rattrap made a show of considering this. "Hmm... Nah." He waved a hand dismissively and went back to his game, purposely ignoring the fact that his superior was watching. "I'm feelin' generous today. Consider us even."

"Actually, I was going to offer to make it up to you by taking the rest of your watch. But I'm not so sure that's a good idea. You clearly have a lot of time on your hands--"

"Hey, hey!" Rattrap spun his chair around. "You know I _love_ work, boss monkey, but this is a bit much of a good thing. I wouldn't mind a break. Bit o' leisure time'd do me good, 'specially after that headache you sent us into earlier." He yawned and stretched out his arms for dramatic effect... only to realize that he really _could_ use a cube or three and a decent night's recharge. Slaggit.

"Well, you may not be thanking me, but I did notice it worked. You two were bickering like kids when you came in. Never thought I'd be relieved to see it." Primal smiled knowingly; Rattrap looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Eh... ya know. All just a big misunderstandin'. Everything's fine now."

"For once, you may be right. It looks like Dinobot and Cheetor made it back okay."

Rattrap spun back around with a start. Sure enough, there was the kid and Chopperface strolling toward the lift platform. The rat felt something zap right through his Spark when the raptor waved snarkily at the camera.

Optimus, bless him, didn't need to be told. "Well since you're not paying attention to the monitors anyway, I suppose they'll be all right without you. Get out of here, Rattrap. And get some sleep; I'll probably have more legwork for you tomorrow."

For once, there was no protest at the prospect of physical activity. At that moment, the returning Maximals stepped out of the lift, and Rattrap leaped from his seat, giving it a twirl and gesturing with a flourish. "The base's security is in your capable hands, Big Banana. I hear a full cube an' an empty berth callin' to me."

Overhearing, Dinobot gave Primal a shake of his head. "You're actually giving him free time? You do realize you're inviting disaster."

Their commander leaned back in his chair and made himself comfortable. "No, disaster is leaving him in charge of watching the base when it's the last thing on his mind. Besides, I thought he'd be worn out after your little adventure this morning."

Dinobot snorted, giving Rattrap his best I'm Learning To Tolerate Your Flaws, Vermin stare. "Hardly an adventure, but given his previous exposure to tests of endurance, it would not surprise me if it used up _all_ his strength."

Not the least bothered by the insults flying right past his nose, Rattrap threw back a saucy wink. "Oh, I don't know, I think I might still have strength left. Enough to go a few rounds o' trash-talk with your scaly butt, anyhow."

"_Hnh_. Challenge accepted." Dinobot looked slightly confused when Primal burst out laughing. When the other three turned to look at him, the ape got himself under control.

"Just... go. All of you." He made shooing gestures. "I get distracted, Megatron shows up and shoots us all. Go do... something. Go."

Dinobot and Rattrap looked at each other and shrugged. Their jaded expressions said, _He's bound to lose it once in a while. Wouldn't you, dealing with us?_

Cheetor just looked confused. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Rattrap intervened. "Nuh-uh. You heard the boss, kid. Outta the command center. You look like you could use a catnap yourself."

- - - - -

He half expected Dinobot to disappear into his own quarters, but apparently he'd underestimated the warrior's desire for company. Once the kid was got rid of, the raptor stuck around and followed Rattrap to the energon dispenser. Of course, he made it look like he was only following him to continue the game of I Hate You More. They traded insults and snide remarks about their teammates comfortably while Rattrap refueled.

"I ain't sayin' your butt is big, Dinobutt, just that you have trouble fitting through the doors. I told Optimus we'd have to remodel half the ship if he let you join us."

"Yet I notice you haven't. Not that I'd mind -- it would be nice to stand up straight without making a dent in the ceiling." Still in beast-mode, the raptor gave said ceiling a scornful look. "Hardly my fault your ship was not designed with full-sized warriors in mind."

"Heh, not our fault velociraptors pack so much junk in the trunk, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Dinobot grunted. "My _trunk_ accomodates two-thirds of my robot mode, vermin." He flashed his rows of long teeth. "And I am NOT a small robot."

Rattrap smirked. "No. No, you're not, are you?" He leaned back against a wall and folded his arms. "So what're you waitin' for, Chopperface? Get your head outta your aft already."

He received a Who Do You Think You're Talking To glare for that, but then Dinobot smirked back. "Maximize," he growled, and rose up to his full height -- there was just enough ceiling clearance here. Rattrap deliberately looked the warrior up and down, nodded appreciatively and went back to his drink.

Not to be outdone in the Suggestive Looks department, Dinobot affected an expression of disappointment. "Not as happy to see me as yesterday, then."

Rattrap caught the jab almost immediately, and Dinobot had the _immense_ satisfaction of seeing him spit energon all over the surrounding surfaces. Once he got hold of himself, the spy wiped his mouth and glared disbelievingly up at the warrior. "You did that on purpose, Paleo Brain!"

"It was easier than expected, I'll admit." The raptor made no attempt to look apologetic.

"I oughtta make you clean that up." Rattrap brushed droplets of energon from his upper legs and was struck by a sudden, _vivid_ mental image of Dinobot cleaning him off in a _very_ interesting way. Whereupon he shook his head rapidly and gulped down the rest of his fuel, nearly choking on it. _For bootin' up cold, get your mind outta the gutter! He'd kill you if he knew what was goin' through it_.

"This mean you're not gonna gimme any more slag about 'assaulting' ya, then?"

Dinobot glared. "It _was_ a reasonable conclusion. But yes, I realize that was not your intent."

"Nah, really?" _Woulda been nice if you'd ASKED me, Lizard Lips_. "I'm surprised you figured it out, with that thick head o' yours."

"I... have my resources." Massive shoulders shrugged. "Cheetor's talk may be useless most of the time, but it can occasionally prove informative."

Rattrap couldn't help it; he groaned aloud. "Ah no, you asked the _KID_? Sheesh..."

"His knowledge on the subject was far from extensive, but he claimed it originated on Earth, a gesture of... friendship."

_Uh-oh_. Rattrap scratched uneasily at the back of his neck. "Friendship, right. Err..."

Sensing hesitation, the raptor tilted his head. "Was he mistaken?" He actually looked a little disappointed, though it was mostly masked by confusion.

"Er, well no, not exactly _mistaken_, I mean that's kinda one way of... I guess it could be considered friendly, yeah. An' o' course you _are_ my friend, at least I think you are, sure you're a Pred an' you smell an' you try to eat me once in a while, but no one's perfect, and, uh..." Rattrap had never stammered so badly in his life; his mouth was running so fast, and his accent so thick, he wasn't at all sure Dinobot could understand a word he was saying. Part of him almost hoped not. "An' maybe we didn't always get along, but y'know, friends fight sometimes, ours are just a little more excitin'. An' I'm always sayin' I don't trust you, sure, but I think we both know, right, that -- Come on, if I really didn't trust ya we wouldn't be on the same team, so..."

He didn't get any further because Dinobot, now wearing an I'm Two Steps Away From Dragging You To Rhinox expression, knelt and grabbed him firmly by both shoulders, giving him a shake. "Vermin! Get control of your vocalizer or shut it off!" This served to jolt the panicked babble to a halt -- though it did not do anything good for Rattrap's mental state. In fact, those powerful claws on his shoulders and the barely-hidden concern in that face _so close_ to his were having exactly the wrong effect.

He struggled mightily with himself for a moment while resisting the big lizard's proximity (_If you had ANY idea, Chopperface..._) as best he could, and finally managed to squeak out, "I think I want another drink."

I'm Not Sure About That Plan, said Dinobot's raised eyebrow, but he let go of Rattrap anyway. "You'll overcharge," he warned.

"Probably. At this point, I really don't care." Rattrap avoided looking at the warrior or even anywhere near him, still busy getting a handle on himself. He rubbed his forehead with both hands and tried to figure out, if this kept up, whether he would be killed by an exasperated Dinobot or die of embarrassment first. When a refilled container of energon was shoved against his chest, he blinked stupidly at it for a few nano-kliks before taking it.

"Drink, then." The raptor made no indication of being willing to leave him alone. "But I still want my explanation."

_Well, I made this mess. I get to roll around in it_. Rattrap sighed in resignation. "Lemme get too smashed to lie first, an' then I'll try to explain. But I ain't promisin' you'll like anythin' you hear."

- - - - -

**Author's Note**: Chapter 7 is already finished and will be up tomorrow. Or when I hit 10 reviews, whichever comes first. Remember, reviewing keeps your room free of rat debris!


	7. Let Us Not Talk Falsely Now

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 7)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: I know what you're all thinking. Yes, I promised to post this last night. Guess what? Got my Internet shut off. It's back on now. Henceforth, I give you the apparently-much-awaited Chapter 7. (No spoilers this time. Just read it.)

- - - - -

"Problem wit' you, Chopperface, is you don't get 'subtle'." Rattrap's beady black eyes were fixed on the twin moons as he spoke, steadfastly avoiding the raptor sitting right beside him, almost but not quite in contact. They'd come back outside for privacy, as neither one wanted to be near the others' quarters and nowhere else in the _Axalon_ was safe from eavesdropping. The spy's voice was low and gave no indication of his slightly overcharged state except that it was a bit less controlled than usual. "I been droppin' hints at you for ages an' you're still oblivious as ever. So I thought to myself, _screw_ subtle -- I'll give 'im a message that hits 'im right over the head. If he bites my head off for that, well, I've lived a good life." He paused and reflected. "Actually, it's been a heap o' slag mostly, but that ain't the point. Point is, if I could get one thing right before I die a horrible death... I wanna show you how I feel. Even if it's the last thing I do."

Dinobot shifted slightly, grass rustling as he settled into a more comfortable position. The Maximals were sitting on a hilltop within eyeshot of the ship, but just barely. The view ahead of them was spectacular, the valley below washed with moonlight and the sky above alive with stars, but even if either of them had a speck of romance in their Sparks, they weren't really seeing it. It was just easier to look at than to try and talk face-to-face.

"Well," said the raptor with a snort, trying to dispel the awkwardness left by the confession, "you could have attempted to communicate in words -- or in _something_ I understood, rather than some baffling alien custom. At the very least, you could have done it without an audience."

The rat scuffed the ground with his toes and shrugged. "Ain't exactly like I planned it out that way. To be honest, I prob'ly never woulda had the bolts to actually do it if you hadn't gone an' blown up on me."

_Ah. That's what this is about_. Dinobot tried to think of something appropriately tough and dismissive for a warrior to say, but Rattrap's honesty made him feel oddly guilty about putting on his usual facade. "It would take more than a cowardly Predacon bomb to stop me," he finally offered in what was almost a reassuring tone, nowhere near as tough as he would have liked it to sound.

"Well, everyone _thought_ it did, Bonehead. An' you can't imagine what it was like in there when--" The rodent's voice choked off; he carried on a second later, quietly. "Almost a meg an' a half, we thought you were both dead. That's what the clock said, but that ain't what it felt like. Megacycle an' a half. Whole slaggin' lifetime." He shook his head. "Then you walk in... First thing in my mind is, I'm imaginin'. I want 'im back so bad my sensors're playin' tricks on me. But the others saw you too, an' you were actin' just like always, an' it -- it was like thinkin' the sun is about to explode, an' then findin' out it ain't." He finally turned to look, or try to look, at Dinobot's face. "An' then I just stopped thinkin'."

When the saurian head did not turn to meet his, and there was no reply, he added, "Didn't mean to scare you. Like I said, I wasn't thinkin'. It was stupid o' me--"

_I wasn't scared_, flew across Dinobot's mind and ALMOST left his mouth before he caught himself and felt a deep, sinking shame at how close he'd come to lying. He had no right to lie, not while seeing through his comrade's mask, seeing his pain. He sighed instead, and Rattrap trailed off, still looking at him quizzically. "Apology accepted, and... I believe it is no longer necessary. I hadn't realized you thought me dead. I misunderstood."

He swung his head around, bringing his long muzzle close to Rattrap's. "I would have expected a bit more faith from you, however. A megacycle and a half? Far too short a time to give me up for dead."

The rat's eyes widened. "I didn't give up on you! I thought--"

"You are a pessimist, vermin, a trait we unfortunately share. More than a few of you have chided me for not having confidence in my fellow Maximals. But I alone am not guilty of this."

"What?" Rattrap stood up on his hind legs. "I have _plenty_ o' confidence in you, Scalebelly. Doesn't mean I think you're invincible, or that you can just keep spittin' in the face o' deactivation an' not fall down for it someday. An' when that day comes, you won't have to care anymore, but... what am _I_ supposed to do?"

Something brushed against his back, then, and it took him a startled moment to realize it was Dinobot's tail, curling lightly but very deliberately around his body. It was a bold move -- the warrior would accept contact from a select few, and even then to a limited degree and depending strongly on his mood, but he never initiated it, except in violence. This gesture from him was so staggering that the rodent dropped back down on all fours, quite deflated, and just stared at him, trying not to shiver as the tail pressed a little more closely into his back.

"Rattrap." The warrior pronounced his name as if it were something unfamiliar; he had seldom, if ever, used it to address the spy to his face. "I do not know the future. I can't promise I will be around to torment you to the end of your days... much as I would like to. But I _will_ promise this: to do everything in my power to return from each battle alive. It would be... embarrassing for you to fall apart prematurely mourning my demise." He managed to smile without showing many teeth. "Would you agree?"

And Rattrap understood what he was trying to say. What he _was_ saying, really, in his own strange language, his own dialect of pride and sarcasm and half-stifled emotion: _Don't give up so easily. I'm not leaving you if I can help it. I can't actually bring myself to say it, so nod if you understand_.

Slowly, he nodded. At an insistent push from the raptor's tail, he then scooted closer, letting fur touch scaly hide. The spy was a tactile mech, but the warrior was not; this was done for Rattrap's benefit. Its seemed to work -- the rat showed signs of calming down immediately, and his respiration gradually slowed to normal. When he moved to snuggle even closer, Dinobot let him, eyes now fixed on the stars.

"Guess your honor wouldn't let you break a promise," the rat muttered into the companionably awkward silence. "Just don't you forget it. 'Cause if you _ever_ do that to me again, I will give you the most disgustingly sweet, sappy, embarrassin' eulogy you've ever heard, an' I'll make sure _every_one hears it, even the Preds."

Dinobot shuddered. "Ugh. Perish the thought."

"I mean it, Chopperface. I'll make you spin in your grave."

A theatrical sigh: "I suppose it would be too much to expect you'd let me rest in peace."

"You die on me, Dinobreath, an' I will disgrace your memory forever."

With that exchange, normality was restored. Both now knew where they stood. There would be no more miscommunications, at least not today. The silence stretched for a time, neither feeling compelled to break it.

Eventually however, a nagging question resurfaced in Dinobot's processor. He growled at himself for having let it go earlier. "Vermin, you still have not explained that Earth gesture to me. I've waited quite patiently enough."

There was no response. At first Dinobot thought the spy might be embarrassed, but when he looked down he saw Rattrap's eyes closed, sides heaving gently. He nudged the rodent sharply with his snout and heard him grunt in surprise.

"What?"

"... Were you _asleep_?"

A yawn accompanied the answer. "Hey, I been up almost two full rotations now. Couldn't sleep last night, an' this mornin' was no picnic. 'Sides, you're warm."

The warrior flushed. "And what if a Predacon attacks?" he insisted.

"Eh, you'll prob'ly eat 'em. What's the worry?" Rattrap stretched out alongside his reptilian companion. "If you wanna go in, Razormaw, just say so."

"Not until you've answered my question, Filth-eater."

"What question?"

Dinobot loosed his frustration in a characteristic snorting growl. "What the slag _was_ that?"

"Was wha-- Oh. _That_. Yesterday, right." Rattrap scratched an ear. "It's... just an expression of affection, that's all. For someone you're close to."

"But what does it _mean_?"

"Oh, brother." The rodent resisted an urge to plant his face in the dirt. "A lot o' things, Chopperface, it just depends. Like there in that context, it meant, 'I'm happy to see you an' I'm glad you're not dead, an' please don't ever scare me like that again, 'cause I just realized I don't think I can live without you.' There. Ya happy?"

Dinobot looked away quickly before the spy could see his reaction. _Well, THAT certainly clears up the confusion_. He needed to be more careful asking questions in the future. "You were right," he muttered. "Overcharging makes you honest. FAR too honest."

"I told ya, you might not like what you hear."

That was true, and Dinobot couldn't think of anything to say in reply. He fidgeted with his front claws and stared at the grass, mindfully ignoring the rat for a moment. Then the spy spoke up again.

"Now _I_ got a question."

The raptor sighed. "What is it, Pestilence?"

"Aww, you're sweet. I just wanna know one thing. Why'd you freak out when I kissed you? Did you really think I was attackin' you?"

"I... didn't know what to think," the warrior admitted, still looking away. "I made up my mind that it _must_ have been an attack. Nothing else made sense."

"You'd never heard of it? That don't surprise me much. Doesn't sound like somethin' Preds would pick up." Rattrap's voice grew quieter. "Guess I shoulda thought a' that."

"_Hm_. You said it yourself, you weren't thinking at the time." _Nothing new there_, he added mentally, but as Rattrap seemed to be feeling guilty about it, he steered away from the usual path of insults. "But I don't suppose you meant me any harm, after all."

"Heh, believe me -- harm's the _last_ thing I meant." The smaller Maximal looked up at the larger hopefully. "So... that's the only reason it put you off? 'Cause ya know, I thought... I thought it mighta just been 'cause it was me, an' I gross you out an' all..."

A scornful chuckle. "Typical. You assumed it was about you."

"So it wasn't?" Rattrap persisted. Obviously the answer was very important to him for some reason, and again, Dinobot bit back on snide remarks to answer as honestly as he could.

"Vermin, if anyone else had done what you did, I would have terminated them on the spot."

It took a moment for the words to sink in and for Rattrap's mind to translate them from Dinobot-ese. Then his whiskers began to twitch up in a smile. "Really?" The smile spread into a grin that lit his whole face. "Ya mean it?"

The overt joy in his reaction caused Dinobot to draw back, throwing up a hasty defense. "Well, I... expect a certain degree of irrational behavior from you, which leaves me inclined to, erm, tolerate..."

But it was too late; small furry forearms encircled the base of his neck, and Dinobot was caught in a rat-hug. He almost panicked, and it took all of his warrior's pride to prevent him fleeing in terror from the open, unrestrained display of friendship. Then Rattrap laughed happily and he froze, gaining control of himself. He could endure discomfort for the sake of that sound -- that sound so unlike the bitter, pessimistic rodent he talked to every day. It was not too high a price to pay for hearing that.

The cold Predacon voice stirred in the shadows of his mind and hissed scornfully, _Your weakness will lead to your destruction -- and his. Get rid of him before he infects you further with this delusion, before you forget everything you are_.

This time, however, Dinobot wasn't listening.

- - - - -

**Author's Note**: Couple of reviewer responses this time, as some of you had questions. (Oh, and Rattrap says if you don't review this chapter, he's got some mouldy cheese looking for a home. Trust me, you'll never find it once he's hidden it.)

Lady Katana4544: There'll be more Terrorsaur/Waspinator later, or at least mentions of it. It's not central to the plot, but it's going on in the background and we'll no doubt see it from time to time.

Kayasuri-n: Accents? Some are left over from Earth cultural contamination, some are just written in to add character. After all, they're not actually speaking English. Rattrap has a Boston accent for real, though. I don't know how he speaks Cybertron with it. Also, he uses a lot of Earth slang and phrases that have no Cybertronian translation, so it confuses the others. (Dang, I actually had to think about that one. Good question!)

Dierdre: I was without Internet for a day and a half and it almost killed me. Believe me, I understand. Here is your chapter. ^^


	8. I Demand Hazard Pay

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 8)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Oh noes, it's a dreaded Action Chapter! Warnings for violence, but no worse than what was in the show.

- - - - -

Beep. _"Rattrap?"_

"... Unnh."

_"Rattrap!"_

Optics switched on at their lowest setting. A drowsy voice acknowledged the comm. "Ugh... boss monkey? Tryin' to sleep, here."

_"You've been offline for almost five megacycles."_

The spy yawned, a beastmode habit most of them had picked up. "That's all? Sheesh..."

_"Sorry Rattrap, but I need you in the northwest quadrant. Airazor's been scouting and picked up Predacon activity just outside of patrol range. Looks like they're building a jamming tower. We need a saboteur, and you're the best we've got."_

"Why not just blow it up? Chuck a coupla missiles at it." He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

_"It's shielded. Airazor already tried. At least three Predacons are guarding it, and reinforcements are probably on the way. There's no time to lose. Meet me at the hatch in five, we're going by air."_ Rattrap winced. _"She and I will provide cover fire while you disable the shield. In and out, quick as you can. No exceptional risks."_

"Pff, yeah, copy that. Don't need to tell _me_ twice." Rattrap sighed; he could still feel the energon buzz from the previous night. "Why do I do this again?"

_"For the safety of the galaxy, and all the garbage you can eat. Five cycles, Rattrap."_

The rodent couldn't hep but grin. His commander sure knew how to appeal to a mech's baser instincts. "Be there in three, Fearless Leader."

- - - - -

Dinobot woke to something crawling on his nose. He opened one eye and focused on the large ant exploring his snout. Unaware of the imminent danger, the insect wandered down the side of his muzzle, the elliptical pupil following its path. Dinobot held still until it reached his closed mouth, then

_SNAP_. Exoskeleton crunched and formic acid filled his mouth with a bitter taste. The raptor spat and wiped his muzzle on the ground.

_Yech. A disappointing victory_. He glared round at the trees as if the whole organic world were responsible. _Well, that's what I get for sleeping outside_.

He stood up stiffly and stretched, beastmode hide shedding a few dead leaves. His internal clock kindly informed him that he'd been asleep for almost two megacycles longer than he'd intended. Wonderful. Hopefully there'd be no enthusiastic welcome waiting for him when he returned to base this time. He didn't think he could handle being declared dead twice in one week--

Suddenly he froze. It was quiet out here, and the still early-morning air carried sound with crystal clarity. He'd heard... something. Standing stock-still with his head cocked at an angle, he dialed up his audio receptors and waited.

Silence. A low hoot from some kind of bird. A very distant rumble of thunder. More silence. Then it came again: weapons fire, Predacon signature.

He was low on fuel and carried only his inbuilt weaponry; the power reserves for his optic lasers were nearly depleted. For about a nano-klik he considered returning to base or at least radioing for reinforcements. It was a sign of Maximal imprinting that he was finally beginning to think of himself as a component of a team.

However, he was still Dinobot. He snorted and set off at a fast trot in the direction of the fighting. _Here come your reinforcements_.

- - - - -

It was bad, worse than they'd thought. The jamming tower wasn't just for communications -- it was directed at the stasis pods still in orbit. Somehow Tarantulas had gotten enough components together to boost a signal that would reach the pods' onboard guidance computers, instructing them to divert course and land near the Predacon base. With a sudden influx of new recruits, Megatron hoped to be able to wipe the Maximals clean off the map... and unlike half of his plans, this one he might just be able to pull off.

Rattrap learned all this while hacking into the damn thing, trying to disable its shields. (He'd already disabled Tarantulas, while Optimus and Airazor were keeping Inferno and Scorponok busy for him.) He relayed the information hastily to Boss Monkey, who responded with new orders.

_"Destroy it. That's a priority. Blow it sky-high, do you hear?"_

Rattrap shot a glance at the charges he'd planted all over the structure. "Way ahead o' you, Big Ape. Gimme another klik an' I'll have this shield down for ya." Hitting the tower with missiles after the way he'd rigged the thing to blow was probably overkill, but it sure couldn't hurt. The demolitionist went back to chipping away at Tarantulas's access codes.

_Man, this guy locks up his security tighter'n -- Ah-ha! Jackpot_. He called up a diagram and scanned it for the locations of the shield emitters. As he did so, lightbulbs started to go off in his head. _Heeey, I see what he did there. That's reeeally... y'know, I could prob'ly do somethin' like this with what we got at the base. Lemme take another look at his power source_--

Primal interrupted his thoughts. _"Rattrap! What's taking so long?"_

"Hang on, boss. I just thought a' somethin'."

_"No time to screw around -- Megatron's fliers just showed up. I've been hit, and Airazor's almost out of ammo. Get that shield down and get your tail out of there!"_

Rattrap shook his head. "Okay, okay. Found the emitters, I'll have 'em down in a tick." Hastily he popped a disc in and made a copy of the diagram. If they could duplicate it, they might be able to recall their own stasis-bound comrades. He couldn't let that opportunity slip.

_"Is that shield down yet?"_ Optimus was sounding increasingly strained.

"Juuust a sec..." Rattrap silently coaxed and pleaded with the disc, and bit back a whoop of triumph as it finished copying. Quickly he popped it out, secured it in one of his drives, and began hacking at the shield generators. It took all of two nanos. "Done! I'm bailin'."

He looked up, finally, and saw the situation indeed as grim as Primal had described. The big ape was grounded, though he was still keeping Inferno occupied with missiles. Scorponok was down, and Airazor was taking on Terrorsaur and Waspinator simultaneously (_Man, gotta love that girl_), but she was tiring. Rattrap glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tarantulas was still unconscious where he'd left him--

He wasn't. _Oh, slag!_

The faint whine of a charging weapon reached the spy's ears, and his body reacted without thinking. He threw himself to one side and the blast shattered the console in a shower of sparks.

"Nooo!" Tarantulas's screech was both furious and frantic. "My emitter! What have you done?" Another whine, and Rattrap was moving as fast as he could, pulling the detonator from a forearm compartment as his feet carried him away from the tower. Tarantulas fired; Rattrap rolled; the blast grazed his shoulder; he regained his feet and pelted madly for the nearest shelter, a small hollow in the ground just big enough for a rat. Right before reaching it he heard a third shot, so he pressed the detonator and dove, transforming just in time for his beastmode to flatten itself to the earth...

The chain of explosions rocked solid ground like a bowl of half-cooled grease. Air became fire, and tons of debris fell like rain. Something twice as tall as Megatron slammed to the ground right on top of Rattrap's hollow, pinning him squarely across the back. He managed to flatten himself still further as the waves of destruction ripped past.

When it subsided, the spy was both blind and deaf for a moment. His oversensitized audios were still filtering out the explosion, and the air was too thick with smoke to see more than a foot or two in any wavelength. He had no idea if the battle was still progressing, or if anyone else besides Tarantulas had been caught in the blast. He tried to squeeze out from his prison, but whatever he was trapped under wouldn't budge. He'd have to dig his way out. Thank Primus for a rodent alt-mode.

_Thank him for this pitiful little dip in the ground, too. If not for that I'da been crushed like an empty can_. He shuddered and coughed. _But at least I'm alive_...

"SABOTAGE! The Royalty's tower is destroyed!" A dim, nightmarish figure appeared from the smoke.

_Inferno? Oh slag, he can't see me, can he?_ The smoke was dispersing rapidly as the wind picked up, and if anyone was used to hunting in it, it was the fire ant. Suddenly red optics lit the gloom, and Rattrap saw death fixed on him.

"_Vermin_." The spy had never thought he'd miss the way Dinobot pronounced those two syllables. The raw hate and insanity in Inferno's voice made the word a promise of pain that gave his very Spark chills. "YOU denied the Royalty victory!" Rattrap made out the barrel of a flamethrower pointed down at him. "You. Will. BUUURRRN!"

_... I guess Primus still hates me after all._

- - - - -

Dinobot ducked as the tower exploded, shockwaves buffeting him where he stood, thankfully out of range of any major debris. Once the ground stopped shaking, he transformed and drew his sword. If there was any fighting left, he would end it.

He saw Optimus first, dragging a half-conscious Airazor away from what had clearly been a field of battle. There were no Predacons immediately in sight, but the smoke was obscuring a good deal. He immediately switched his vision to infrared. Shapes popped into view against the background of devastation -- mostly unmoving shapes, but over near the remains of the tower there was motion. Then a flame leaped into view, white-hot and distinct. _Inferno_ crossed Dinobot's mind even before the faded cackle reached his audio sensors.

Not until he had crossed half the distance between them at a run did he hear something else above the ant's mad howls and roaring flame: someone screaming.

A voice he knew very well...

A voice that should not _EVER_ have to make that sound.

Dinobot opened up the gates to every channel of rage that flowed through his circuits. Rage filled him, became his fuel. It reached his sword through his clenching hand, and the blade began to spin with anticipation. It reached his optics and they turned deadly green. When it reached his vocalizer, he roared.

The sound must have penetrated the ant's craze. Inferno looked up from his target, saw death approaching, and prepared for battle, pointing his flamethrower at the approaching threat. Twin optic beams fired, knocking the gun from his hand. He half-turned to watch as it fell, looking for a moment perplexed and uncertain... then the madness returned to his optics and he charged straight at Dinobot empty-handed, shrieking like a thing deranged. The warrior saw for the first time that the ant's abdomen was mangled, his rotors shot to hell. _He can't fly_. Dinobot stopped, planted his feet in the ground, and waited.

He met the charge with a single fist, driven up underneath the ant's jaw. Inferno's head all but popped off his shoulders, remaining attached by a bundle of wires. His momentum carried him straight into Dinobot and the warrior staggered back, but kept his footing. Inferno rebounded hard and landed on his back, sparks shooting from his neck, limbs flailing spastically as his sensory system tried to regain equilibrium. Dinobot raised his sword.

"Take _this_, for the Royalty!" He drove the spinning blade through the ant's torso, shearing through his plating and boring straight into the ground. With the Predacon pinned like an insect specimen, he grabbed the protruding neck-wires in his fist and ripped upwards. Fluid coated his fingers, and the flailing beneath him died into senseless quivering.

_His Spark still pulses. Finish it!_

Obeying the inner Predacon voice, Dinobot grabbed a section of torso plating and began to pull it up. Then he hesitated. What was that sound...?

_Ignore it! KILL!_

Something -- someone -- was screaming. A face appeared in his mind, then a name...

Dinobot suddenly whipped upright, turning toward the sound, and began running, abandoning his fallen foe. The inner voice shouted in fury... but it was pushed aside and then drowned out by the calls for help.

Rattrap was pinned down in a charred pit under a fallen reinforcement strut. He was naked -- his fur had been burnt off and the blackened skin was barely clinging to his beastmode. In several places Dinobot could see bare, scorched metal. But the vermin was alive, and plenty conscious, if his yelling was any indication.

"Rattrap!" The warrior knelt beside him. "Can you hear me?"

Instantly the yelling ceased. The rat lay panting and slowly opened a cracked eyelid. "Nghh... Chopperface?" He managed to form a gruesome smile. "Guess he... don't hate me so much... after all."

- - - - -

**Author's Note**: Sorry to leave you all hanging again. Here's some review replies to keep you cozy. (Remember the cheese and review, please!)

Dierdre: I has flowers! (Happy dance) Thanks for not only telling me you like it, but telling me why, as well. I like to know exactly what it is I'm doing right so I can keep at it. Yeah, the balance is tricky, but they're pretty good at writing themselves. I mostly just play the scene in the head and type out what I see them doing. Don't give me too much of the credit. As for Megatron... Well, you'll see in a few chapters. There's a whole subplot there. Yes, it's dark and complex, and heavily reliant on subtext I read from the show. (There was a lot of that.) Be patient though, that part's going to be difficult to write.

Kayasuri-n: I keep doing the same thing. (Growls at site) Anyway, yeah, they needed to talk and there's apparently a lot they still have to discuss. In answer to your question: Decepticons didn't pay much attention to humans except where they could use them, and never picked up much of human culture. What they did pick up mostly disturbed and confused them and they didn't bother to record or study it. What little research did make it back was then distorted further as Decepticons became Predacons, and in the case of most human works (like the Shakespearean tragedies Dinobot is so fond of), the Predacon translations wrote out things like kissing entirely, either as the result of translation errors or deliberate censorship. So. For a variety of reasons, most Predacons have never heard of kissing, and those that do are likely to steer clear of it on account of it being a "disgusting organic practice." Preds are picky about that sort of thing. Maximals... not so much.

Lady Katana4544: I didn't think you were being overly demanding. I 'ship them too, and yeah, they'll be here. Should be some more of them coming up a few chapters from now, actually.

SisterDear: Oh, it's worth it. I mostly watch the first season. It got less interesting for me after the show moved on to bigger, grander plotlines and a lot of my favorite characters died or got ugly. Far as I'm concerned, the interpersonal drama was the driving force of the show, and there was still so much that was never explored or barely touched on. I'm trying to build on that potential.


	9. I'm A Soldier, Not An Ambulance

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 9)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Picks up right where last chap left off. Warnings, heavy snark ahead.

- - - - -

It wasn't hard for Dinobot to drag the girder off of Rattrap. The challenge was doing so without further squashing the rodent. Rattrap cried out with each little jolt, and Dinobot's mind was torn between _Hurry!_ and _Careful!_ Finally he gripped the hot metal on either side of the rat's body and lifted. Struts creaked in his back and the beast-flesh on his hands was seared, but with a growl and a heave the girder rolled off, and Rattrap was free.

"Henh... Thanks." The rat coughed, vents working furiously to push excessive heat away from his core. "How... do I look?"

Dinobot went over him once, critically, hands hovering just above the rat's smoking body as if he was afraid to touch. "Like slag," he admitted bluntly. It was an understatement. The burn damage was mostly superficial, but if his tactile receptors weren't lying, Rattrap was badly overheated. His thermoregulation system must have been going into fits. The rodent coughed again.

"Oh, good. Matches... how I feel."

"Dinobot!" The warrior looked up. Optimus was approaching, Airazor slung across his back. Both had reverted to beastmode. "Am I glad to see you. How's Rattrap?"

"Could... be better," the spy answered for himself. He was clearly in shock.

Dinobot's expression was grim. "I don't suppose either of you are flight capable?" he asked his fellow Maximals.

Airazor woozily flapped a smoking, featherless wing. "That would be no."

Optimus shook his head. "My jets are shot. Literally. You missed a hell of a battle."

"I missed nothing." Dinobot sighed and turned back to Rattrap. "This is going to hurt."

A wheezy laugh replied. "Little late there, Lizard Lips. Do your worst."

The raptor steeled himself and slipped his claws under Rattrap's body, scooping him up as gently as he could. The spy's weight was negligible, but it was like picking up a hot coal. Rattrap shuddered and did his best to bite back pained vocalizations as he was carefully, so carefully, deposited in Optimus's arms.

Primal looked at Dinobot as if he already knew what the warrior was thinking. "I can't carry him and Airazor both."

"No need." The raptor transformed. "I will take him."

"Are you sure?"

Dinobot looked at the rodent, who was watching him with half-lidded eyes, and twitched a corner of his mouth. "Not the most savory prospect of my life--" Rattrap caught the provocative tone and gave another sickly smile -- "but I am faster, and uninjured." _And low on energy, but no need for you to know that. It will be enough_. "So what are you waiting for?"

An awkward bunch they must have seemed -- a gorilla with a wounded falcon sprawled on his shoulders, depositing a badly charred rat on the back of a tense-looking velociraptor. A yelp escaped Rattrap as he was transferred, but he clung on to his scaly new ride with all the strength he could muster, digging his claws in as if his life depended on it (which, at the moment, it did). Before backing off, Primal laid a hand briefly on Dinobot's shoulder. "Take him as fast as you can. I'll try to get through to Rhinox and let him know you're on your way. See if we can get you an escort."

The warrior nodded but didn't speak. Let Primal do as he felt best; they would reach the base in time, with or without an escort.

"Hold on," he breathed for Rattrap's benefit alone, and started running.

- - - - -

_Hold on_. The words stuck in Rattrap's spinning processor, so he obeyed, though he had trouble remembering where he was. He thought he was riding a dinosaur, but wasn't entirely sure. Trees whipped by at a dizzying pace. Everything was blurry, not just his vision but his memories, thoughts. Except one. _Hold on, hold on. Gotta hold on_...

"Vermin! You're slipping. Don't even think about falling off!"

"... Sure thing, Grandma. What... big teeth you have."

There was a frustrated growl that sounded awfully familiar. His head cleared, a little. He knew they were running back to base. Someone was injured. Someon-- Oh, right. That would be why he felt like one big exclamation mark of pain. And why he could smell burnt rat. He groaned.

"Could you possibly slow down a little, Chopperface? I don' feel so good..."

A low tree branch just missed him; it would've whipped through his fur if he had any. "That's exactly _why_ I'm not slowing down, you wretched rodent. Just stay on until we reach the base."

The spy groaned. "How much further?"

"You let me worry about that."

"'S my fuel tank I'M worried about. Hate t' hurl on the seat. I think this is real leather..."

His ride snarled at him again. "_Hurl_ then, if you must. It would be far from the most disgusting thing you've ever done in my company."

They went over a bump -- or rather, Dinobot leaped over a fallen log -- and Rattrap shrieked. For a second he nearly blacked out. He hadn't been in pain this bad since, since--

_NO. You don't wanna think about that right now. Stay focused, Rattrap_.

"Vermin?" Dinobot didn't try to mask his concern now. Well, it wasn't like his passenger was in a state to bother him about it.

"Still 'ere... Nghh. _Please_ don't do that again."

"No promises." The trees were thinning; they were heading out onto open ground. "You'll thank me when we reach the base. Brace yourself!" Dinobot jumped again, this time to clear a small ravine. Rattrap cursed colorfully but held on.

"You could at least drive safely, you oversized iguana! You're transportin' wounded here." In truth, he was only complaining because it kept the fear and pain at bay. Not that he'd admit to it.

Dinobot seemed to know anyway, because he kept up his end -- or maybe he was more nervous than he let on, too. "I was NOT designed with rescue functions in mind, as you may have guessed. I'm certain I don't need driving lessons from _you_."

"Well, you need 'em from somebod-- AAAGH!" Energon surges crackled along Rattrap's damaged body, nearly throwing him off of Dinobot's back. He'd nearly forgotten that, with half his skin burnt off, his radiation shielding was gone with it.

"Rattrap!" The raptor was slowing down. "Don't you dare let go now!"

"Can't... hold on..."

"You _must!_ FIGHT, damn you!"

"Nnng... YeeAGH!" Rattrap bit down on Dinobot's back to hold himself in place. With eyes squeezed shut and raptor hide clenched firmly in his teeth, he ordered his computer to reroute all available power to his shields. Almost immediately the painful surges faded. He'd bought them a few kliks, at least.

"On second thought, Dinobutt, you're right. Better put the pedal to the metal."

Boy, did he EVER. On a nice flat stretch of savanna, the big lizard could really pound dirt. Rattrap threw his stubby front limbs around the base of Dinobot's neck and tucked his head down against the wind. _Now I know why this form is called a VELOCIraptor. Man, how'd these things ever go extinct? It's a good thing they did -- this planet musta been a nightmare back when they were runnin' around._

Too bad for Dinobot, though. He would have loved it.

The blurriness was coming back, Rattrap realized. Too much energy was being drawn by his shields. He almost asked how much further they had to go, but didn't really want to know the answer, and he doubted Dinobot would tell him anyway. What if this was really it, he wondered -- what if the universe was finally tired of letting Dis Rat get away with so much?

_Pit, that would suck_. "Hey, Chopperface?"

"Hnh. What now?" The strain of running was starting to become evident in Dinobot's voice.

"Listen, if... if I don't make it... don't let the kid get his paws on any o' my stuff, alright? I know they say you can't take it with you, but--"

"Vermin," snapped the raptor, very coldly and distinctly, "if you dare die on me, not only will I turn over ALL your possessions to Cheetor, but I will utterly and thoroughly humiliate you in eulogy."

"Tch," said Rattrap through his front teeth. "Humiliate _me_? How d'you figure on pullin' that one off?"

"Do I need to remind you of my taste for poetry, rodent, which you find so appalling? I _will_ use it, mark me. The galaxy will remember you as a hero, as a Spark of molten gold beneath a vermin's hide, devoted selflessly to the Maximal cause and freedom for all sentient--"

"GAH! Stop that! You're a backbitin' heap o' slag, but I can't see even you bein' THAT evil!"

"I will write _memoirs_, rodent." Dinobot was on a roll now, unstoppable. "Cybertron will never forget your name. Songs will be sung of your courage and compassion, exaggerated beyond all recognition, long after we both are d--"

"Alright, alright, CUT IT OUT! I already got motion sickness, don't make it worse. You win, slag you. I'll _live_." Another energon surge -- not so intense as before, but an alarming herald of worse to come -- seemed to contradict the statement. Rattrap set his teeth and ignored it. "Just hope you know you're a cold-blooded son of a cyberflu, threatenin' people like that."

This time, there was an unmistakeable chuckle. "I learned from the best."

- - - - -

**Author's Notes**: Yeah yeah, they're still not safely back at base. Relax. I'M NOT GOING TO KILL RATTRAP, SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE. Be hard to have a love story with one party dead. Besides, it's just a flesh wound. (Ha. Ha ha.)

Dierdre: I'd like to find Airazor something to do later other than kick butt. She was always an awesome character. Glad you enjoyed Dinobot's Heroic Moment Of Murderous Rage and Rattrap's apparently unkillable snark. And we should be seeing Megatron very soon...

Kayasuri-n: Oh, there was subtext. Just the way Megatron TALKS to Dinobot is enough to give me shivers and literally scares the hell out of a friend of mine (who's also a fan). Then there was his obsession with replicating Dinobot, which started at the slavishly loyal clone in Double Dinobot and ended with a Transmetal 2 replica who had all of his strength and savagery, and none of his honor or independence. Maximal No More is a really great episode to watch if you want to see killer tension between them. Their hatred is deep, personal, and gives the impression of having once been rooted in at least an illusion of friendship and respect. It also leaves me with a hell of a lot to play off of and expand on.

(Keep the questions coming, I love 'em. I'll gladly reply to reviews if you're going to put so much thought into them.)


	10. This Is Between Me, Myself, And I

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 10)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: /End suspense. Thank you for not sending me death-threats over the cliffhangers. (Warning -- chapter contains a dream sequence which is scary for two reasons. One, I've never written a dream sequence before and it's probably terrible. Two, it's Dinobot's. The guys does not do nightmares halfway.)

- - - - -

Dinobot had never been so glad to see the _Axalon_. Optimus must have gotten through, for Sentinel was on standby when they arrived, and Rhinox was waiting for them just outside. The big green tech did not look pleased.

The raptor slowed to a halt near the lift, panting from exertion, half spent but doing his best not to show it. The vermin by now was barely clinging to consciousness. Rhinox pulled out a hand scanner and waved it over him.

"Hm. Not much time," he said in response to the readings. "Better get him inside."

He reached out to take Rattrap -- and the velociraptor whirled, teeth snapping together just short of the outstretched fingers. Rhinox jerked back in surprise, and even Dinobot was shocked by the outburst once he regained control of himself. The strain of the situation was affecting him more than it should. He decided to blame his depleted energy reserves and leave it at that, rather than psychoanalyze himself on the spot. Still bearing his burden, he headed for the lift.

"I have carried him this far," he growled as he stepped onto the platform. "I'm certain I can make it to the CR chamber." He kept his tone as sarcastic as possible, trying to disguise the fact that he was close to collapsing. Rhinox followed, not arguing, although to say that he was happy about the situation would be to ignore the expression on his face. Dinobot very pointedly did not glance in his direction.

As they stepped off the lift into the command center, Rattrap raised his head from Dinobot's shoulder. "This looks like my stop," he sighed, in a tone of blissful relief. He was shivering now, and energon could be seen and heard crackling ominously over the exposed metal of his body.

The other two Maximals exchanged looks. Mutual concern was at odds with almost palpable territorial conflict, but in the end, concern won. Dinobot lowered his head. "You take him now." _Now that I'm READY to give him up_, went unspoken.

Carefully -- and aware that his every move was being scrutinized from the corner of a reptilian eye -- Rhinox lifted the badly charred rat and placed him in the nearest chamber. Tiny clamps, tubes and wires moved automatically into place, and there was a hiss of gases as the hatch closed. Dinobot could not see Rattrap disappear from view through the cloud of steam, but he could swear the rat was looking at him. A warrior knew well enough when he was being watched.

Rhinox, on the other hand, wasn't looking in his direction at all. There was plenty of invisible hostility between them still, all the more palpable with Rattrap safely in recovery. Such conflict would not have bothered Dinobot normally, but he was tired, and he didn't want to deal with it now. He decided for civility... or at least the closest he could manage.

"If he is out of danger, I'm going to refuel." He gave Rhinox two seconds to respond. When the tech merely grunted, Dinobot shrugged and left.

At the door, he paused. "I may return later, to... check on his condition." He wasn't sure why he added that. Perhaps just to show the technician that it wasn't just Maximals who cared. Perhaps to make clear that he still considered Rattrap's life his responsibility; after all, he had gone to the trouble of saving it. Or perhaps it was a warning. There was something that unnerved him about the idea of being in a CR chamber with only Rhinox on guard. Something about the tech himself, that reminded Dinobot vaguely of stasis tanks and tubes and programmers whose faces he couldn't remember, and made him keep a close eye on those green hands even when Rhinox was in his benign moods. There were certain kinds of people Dinobot just didn't trust.

Then again, there were very few people he _did_ trust. Yet another trait in common with the vermin: He was a paranoid bastard.

_Optimus will be back soon. Let him worry about Maximal problems. I... really could use a drink_.

It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall that Dinobot realized how beat he was. He was actually staggering slightly, each foot rising with great effort and coming down heavily on the deckplates, while his vents cycled loudly trying to move overheated air out of his system. More alarming still were the small motor spasms and flickers of dizziness that signaled synaptic misfires -- a symptom of critically low energy levels. He had almost been running on fumes by the time they reached the Maximal camp, though he'd barely been aware of it until Rattrap was safe.

Also, his feet hurt.

Dinobot stopped in the middle of the corridor and transformed, bracing his shoulder against a wall as he stood. He looked down at what had become his hands. The flesh of the palms and fingers was blistered from heat, and the blisters had torn open during the run. He remembered pulling the still-hot girder off of Rattrap, and wondered why he hadn't noticed the injuries until now.

_Well. I DID have a mission to focus on, _Dinobot told himself. Of course, it was never that simple in his mind.

_A rescue mission? And you were so caught up in it as to ignore your own injuries? That sort of thinking gets Predacons killed._

The warrior shook his head. _I had to get Rat--my comrade back to base_, he insisted to himself, _or we would have lost one of our forces_. He reached the door to his quarters and tapped in the passcode with his claws. Now he saw the skin on the back of his knuckles was slightly torn, revealing a hint of wiring beneath. That must have been from hitting Inferno.

_This concern for a teammate... so very Maximal. Or is it only for one teammate?_

Finally, the damn door opened. _It doesn't matter. Look, there's an energon dispenser. I'm going to refuel and recharge. The soul-searching will have to wait_. Perhaps a trip to the washrack was also in order. The stench of burnt rodent clung to him like a shroud.

That oh-so-argumentative inner voice had one last point to make, however. _Where is your WEAPON, warrior?_

Dinobot froze. His _sword_. He'd left it on the battlefield -- sticking out of Inferno, to be precise. By itself this was no cause for panic; he had fought unarmed many times before, and though the sword was a useful tool, he was not so attached to it as to feel completely naked without it. Under the circumstances, however, the fact that it had just _slipped his mind_, along with so many other things he should have been aware of...

... _Alright. Something is wrong with me_.

He waited for a retort to that, but it didn't come. Apparently there were no answers to be had anywhere in his head. There was instead a sense of entropy, of things breaking up and falling apart at an ever-increasing rate all around, and even inside, him. It felt as if he'd been knocked off his feet, and now he couldn't regain them. He had no control of the situation. No control at all.

He was afraid.

Shakily, Dinobot filled a container of energon and downed it. He leaned back against the wall for support, and gradually slid to the floor, head dropping to his knees. He would be fine. It was his energy levels, that was all. He just had to wait for his systems to stabilize, and the world would stop spinning and everything would make sense. Everything... would... make...

- - - - -

_"This doesn't make any sense! Were you even listening to my report?"_

_"You try my patience, Dinobot. I've given you orders. Are you going to follow them or not? Think carefully."_

_The room was an arena, an empty one. No cheering spectators. No announcer. Just the two warrior mechs face-to-face, tension strung between them like tripwires, liable to be set off by the slightest movement. The tension that builds just before a battle._

_"I have followed your orders for nearly forty decacycles, Megatron. I'd think my opinion would have earned your trust by now." These were the words they'd spoken, yes, but not here. No, this had happened long after the arena, long after Megatron had found him..._

_"When I want your opinion, lieutenant, I will ask for it. Since I haven't asked for it, you may presume that I am not in the mood for discussion." Megatron raised his right hand in warning. It wavered indistinctly; sometimes it was a tyrannosaur head, sometimes it was a fusion cannon. "Unless you care to discuss this in a less civilized fashion?"_

_Dinobot hesitated, then drew his sword. He knew it was a mistake. He knew what was going to happen -- what had already happened. But it was his nature, to draw and fight when challenged, a warrior's nature. He had not lost that to Megatron, not yet. "I accept."_

_Suddenly he was outside himself, watching the scene from a distant third-person perspective. He saw the swift exchange of blows, saw his sword knocked away. Then the cannon blast, ending the fight prematurely. He turned away before he could see the warrior -- himself -- sink to his knees, clutching a hole in his side. Defeated._

_"Easy to get used to after awhile, ain't it, Chopperface?"_

_Dinobot turned to see Rattrap watching him. A hulking figure loomed in the shadows behind the rodent, and a large hand reached down, grabbing him by the neck. Rattrap winced, but didn't struggle. "Just another day at the office," he said resignedly, disappearing into the gloom._

_"No!" Dinobot lunged after him, but when he reached for his sword, he found he no longer had it. When he looked up again, Rattrap was gone. A faint, pained squeak reached his audios and he spun in a circle, trying to locate it. "Doesn't make it right. You said so yourself--"_

_"Maximal sentiment."_

_He spun again, and was looking at himself. A blue face twisted in disgust, red optics coldly narrowed. "This is the way of SURVIVAL," said the mirror. "Let the Maximals worry about matters of 'right' and 'wrong'. Let them worry about their own. You are bound to look after no one, except yourself."_

_Smell of burning fur haunted him. "I saved a life. I have taken a responsibility--"_

_"You were a FOOL." The face loomed closer, teeth bared in fury. "You cannot even fathom the reasons for your own actions. The Maximal lack of logic has begun to rub off on you."_

_"Maximal weakness is contagious." Megatron loomed over his shoulder, chuckling. "Ah Dinobot, how quickly you fall apart without me. How quickly you forget what it means to be Predacon. You should return, before it's too late..."_

_"Leave them!" his own face shouted at him. "Abandon these fools before you share their fate!"_

_"We're better off without you, anyway." Primal's voice, somewhere in the darkness off to his left. "I never would never have taken you in if I didn't pity you--"_

_"NO!"_

_"Of course. Pity is a Maximal trait. We all pity you, Dinobot. Because you will never be one of us, and yet you're no longer a Predacon."_

_"Such tragedy," said Megatron. "You left me because I didn't respect you. But you've found no respect here, nooo."_

_He roared and spun to attack, but a hand wrapped around his throat. Dinobot struggled, shouting incoherently at the voices in the dark, challenging just one to come out and face him in fair combat, one chance, that was all he needed... he would not fail..._

Dinobot growled, his teeth gnashing feebly at the air. Sensing rising distress and a dangerous core temperature increase, his stasis mechanisms kicked in. Systems powered down, energy was diverted from all but the most vital mechanisms, and the warrior's body slumped as his mind slipped into blackness... beyond the reach of dreams.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**flamingmarsh**: Uhh, no. That's not even a spoiler. I'M NOT KILLING DINOBOT. It would shorten my love story. Besides, a lot of events unfold differently in this. I'm hijacking the series from late season one on (never was any good at following canon). So, anything can happen, and I'll probably give y'all whole new reasons to hate me later on, but I ain't killing the dinosaur. The rat would kill _me_ if I did.

**FriendoftheVampires**: Told you he would. :P I KEEP MY WORD. Usually. So does Dinobot, so Rattrap better not even _think_ about dying in the future.

**Kayasuri-n**: As you pointed out, he didn't have much choice. Also, Dinobot is a career soldier and tends not to feel pain if it isn't convenient. (I still remember him in Double Jeopardy, getting a hole shot in his shoulder and just giving it this annoyed look before telling Primal, "Our strategic disadvantage is considerable.")

Dinobot's thinking is that Rattrap must live, so he can berate the vermin later if he does throw up. Also, he's right -- hang around a robot rat long enough and you will get used to disgusting behavior.

Discovery Channel Obsessed Nut? PLEASE. I guarantee, you have nothing on me. I've been pronouncing "Compsognathus" since I was FIVE. Yes, most raptors were about turkey-sized, but some did grow quite a bit larger (Dinobot's proportions are about right for, say, Utahraptor) -- and really, considering the giant wasps and spiders and birds and oh yeah, RAT, I think it's clear not all of the beastmodes are to scale. What bothers me more is that this is set in Africa and both tyrannosaurids and dromaeosaurids (the "raptor" family) seem to be restricted to the northern hemisphere. I've had to swallow hard and accept that, along with the presence of (apparently) wolves and tigers, which could theoretically have wandered a ways from Asia but... arrgh. And of course the black widow is ONLY found in North America, which just screws things up still further. Trust me, I'm stretching belief as far as I can. Bear with me while my inner zoologist tries not to explode.

(Raptors also had feathers. Dinobot does not. Terrorsaur is likewise lacking the fur found on real pterosaurs. I figure since the scanner didn't have complete DNA to replicate from fossils, it just scanned the basic structure of the skeletons and then deduced the skin from the closest related animals in the area... which were probably lizards and snakes. Dinobot's skin looks vaguely like a monitor lizard's, so I'm guessing he's kind of an amalgam of 'raptor and modern reptiles cobbled together by the Darksyde's computer. Lucky him.)

It's amazing what you see watching the show as an adult, or even a teenager. I know the Dinobot/Rattrap vibes can be picked up by some kids (a friend of mine noticed it when she first watched the show in elementary school), but the Megatron vibes are a bit more subtle, and the Creepy Rhinox Factor is subtler still. Once you see 'em though, it's hard NOT to.

Finally, on the sword... see above. Yes, he left it sticking out of Inferno. At first it was a writing error; I realized I hadn't written him retrieving the sword, but this was during beta'ing process and I could've easily fixed it then. But I remembered times he'd left the sword behind in the show, and thought, "Nah. If anything will distract him enough to forget his weapon, this is it." It serves two purposes -- one, to show just how BAD Dinobot has it for Rattrap. The second purpose comes up next chapter.

(Next chapter is set in the Predacon base. You want creepy Megatron, you've GOT creepy Megatron.)


	11. Another Day At The Office

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 11)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: For a change of pace, this chapter features only Predacons. Plenty of casual violence and unkind verbal exchanges -- well, you know these guys.

- - - - -

Terrorsaur's life sucked slag. It really did.

"HOW could you fail?" Megatron demanded. "No, really. Explain this to me. Tarantulas built the tower, it was nearly operational, I had _five_ of you clowns guarding it, against what, two or three Maximals -- WHAT WENT WRONG?"

He punctuated the question by slamming the pterodactyl back against a console. Terrorsaur stifled a yelp of pain as the theropod teeth on Megatron's right "hand" punctured the plating on his torso and arm.

"It's not my fault!" he protested, though he knew his voice rasped on Megatron's nerves and that it would probably invite a worse beating. He'd never been able to stop his mouth from flapping when he was nervous. "W-Waspinator and I just got there! It was Tarantulas who let the tower be destroyed, a-and Inferno and Scorponok were supposed to be guarding--" He cut off with a squeak as the jaws squeezed tighter, threatening to crack his exostructure.

"I sent the two of you in to chase off the Maximals! It should have been a simple task even for _you_. Instead my plans are in pieces, Tarantulas and Inferno are both in repair tanks, and Optimus Primal still lives!" Megatron rapped Terrorsaur's helm with the heavy tail segment on his left hand. "How am I supposed to conquer Cybertron with such incompetent subordinates? My namesake must have had at least one mech in ten who could tell his CPU from his exhaust port, but I seem to lack his fortune!"

He spun, hurling the pterosaur to the deck a few meters away. The flier landed with a noisy clatter, right at the feet of his wingmate. Waspinator's mandibled face was impassive, but anyone watching closely would have seen him flinch, fists clenching tighter at his sides. He couldn't very well intervene on Terrorsaur's behalf, not if he wanted to be intact to help fix him later.

As Megatron turned away again, however, the wasp extended a hand to surreptitiously help his wingmate to his feet. Blackarachnia, sitting at a monitor station off to one side, watched them from a corner of her optic and snorted.

"At times I wonder if it's fortune at all," the Predacon ruler mused aloud to himself. "I certainly can't rule out the possibility that such incompetence is deliberate... especially concerning _some_." He whirled back around to face the fliers just as Terrorsaur regained his feet. "It would be easy enough to sabotage my plan and then claim that you were defeated through no fault of your own. You could have failed to fire on the Maximals... or even fired on your fellow Predacons, in the heat of battle, and blamed it on Primal's little crew. I wouldn't put it past you at all. Can you prove otherwise? Well, _can_ you?"

His accusing gaze swept over the pair, the only Predacons who'd come back from the mission able to walk. Terrorsaur was careful to avoid optic contact. Megatron never took defeat well, and this one had him rattled bad. He was looking, _really_ looking for an outlet, someone to tack the blame on. Logic had little or no bearing on his thinking at times like this. Terrorsaur's record was not exactly stellar, and placed him at the top of the list of favorite punching bags, though Scorponok was slowly catching up. Knowing this -- and not entirely stupid, despite what many of his comrades seemed to believe -- the flier would do almost anything to stave off his commander's anger. Unfortunately, he'd already been singled out, and further pain was likely to follow unless Megatron could be distracted.

Waspinator, bless him, chose that moment to speak up. "Waspinator and Terror-bot shot only Bird-bot. Bird-bot shot Terror-bot, and Optimus shot poor Waspinator--"

"And Scorponok," Terrorsaur added hastily.

"And Tarantulas exploded." Waspinator gave a nod.

Megatron looked back and forth between them, his expression apparently calm. Of course, he had a penchant for erupting in violence without any warning, so Terrorsaur was far from reassured. He would have at least liked to be able to read his boss's mood. "And Inferno?" the tyrant inquired mildly.

Terrorsaur looked at Waspinator. He didn't want to be the one to say it. He'd been knocked around enough for one day.

"Ant-bot was stabbed with sword," the wasp said simply.

Megatron's entire demeanor changed. His optics widened, his posture stiffened, and he stared off over his subordinates' heads as if seeing someone else. "Dinobot," he growled, beastmode creeping into his voice with a low rumble that made the deckplates vibrate. His optics snapped quickly back to Waspinator. "When did he get there? You didn't mention him before."

"Waspinator did not see him. Only found sword sticking out of Ant-bot," the flier maintained steadfastly. His partner envied him his composure. (Then again, Megatron seldom bothered taking out any frustration on Waspinator. The rest of the universe seemed to more than make up for it.)

"And you left it? Why didn't you idiots bring it back to base?"

"We had enough to worry about with dragging the other--" Terrorsaur began. Megatron's fist shot out, and the red flier sprawled backwards, cutting off with a shriek. Ignoring him utterly beyond this offhanded gesture, the tyrant addressed Waspinator.

"Dinobot wouldn't leave a battle unfinished, let alone his sword. Are you _certain_ he was no longer on the field?"

The wasp nodded. Megatron's gaze grew thoughtful, and he seemed to forget for a moment where he was. Waspinator took advantage of that moment to take a step back and shoot a quick glance over at Terrorsaur, who was still sitting on the floor. The pterosaur shrugged as if to say, _Don't look at me. I know he's insane; that's why I'm staying right here_.

Suddenly Megatron spoke again, causing them both to jump. "Waspinator, Terrorsaur, get yourselves repaired and take over the monitors. Blackarachnia can see to the others. I have matters to attend to outside the base."

"Thanks a lot," muttered the femme, just loudly enough for Megatron to hear. He ignored her, but Terrorsaur made a face in her direction as the tyrant turned away.

"What if Maximals attack?" Leave it to Waspinator to think of the obvious.

Megatron stepped onto a hover platform and transformed. "They have their own wounded to attend to. Never mind them; just try not to blow up the base while I'm gone." As the platform zoomed away, he called out, "And don't let Terrorsaur take over again!"

"That was _one time!"_ Terrorsaur shouted after him, voice cracking hoarsely in indignation.

"Three," Blackarachnia smirked.

He flashed his fangs at her. "You _would_ keep count, you blackmailing bitch. Besides, _your_ record is far from perfect!"

The spider smiled coyly. "But you're _so much_ better at getting caught, Screechy. I'd almost say you were drawing attention to yourself on purpose. Perhaps you like being Megatron's favorite plaything--"

The flier shrieked at earsplitting volume and lunged in her direction. Blackarachnia's launcher was pointed swiftly at his face and he halted, barely a foot away from her, hands extended as if to wrap around her throat. His optics were burning, but even in a rage, he couldn't quite work up the nerve to attack an armed opponent face-to-face. His impotence made him shake while Blackarachnia smirked. "What's wrong, Terrorsaur? You know you want to. You'd love to be the one throwing the punches for once."

Waspinator laid a hand on his shoulder and Terrorsaur spun around, drawing back an arm as if to lay him flat. At the sight of his partner's impassive face, he slowly cooled off. His arms dropped to his sides and he stepped back, shrugging off the hand and looking at Blackarachnia as if she were something he'd found on the underside of a rock. "You'd love it a lot more than I would. Honestly, if you're THAT bored, go annoy Megatron yourself. I'm tired, and I need repairs because, oh yeah, I was actually in a _battle_ today, while some of us got to sit around watching their screens!"

He turned away, meeting Waspinator's optics for a brief instant. "Come on. She likes the monitors so much, she can have them for another megacycle. I feel like slag." The pair exited the command center, Terrorsaur brushing off Waspinator's offers of assistance on the chance that they might still be watched.

"Poor baby," the spider chuckled, leaning back into her seat. No chitin off of _her_ abdomen if they wanted to go and keep themselves busy for awhile. She'd been enjoying the quiet, and with Megatron out for a stroll, it would be even more enjoyable. Add Tarantulas and that nosy ant in CR and it was almost a perfect day.

Out of idle curiosity, she switched to the external cameras and cycled through them. She finally spotted Megatron, at the limit of one camera's vision, striding purposefully away from the lava fields. It looked as if he was headed in the direction of the most recent battle.

_Probably gone to pick up Dinobot's sword, if it's still there_. Blackarachnia shook her head. She didn't understand her boss's hangups, but truth be told, she didn't really want to. If Megatron decided he had an overpowering need to acquire the traitor's weapon for his trophy collection, let him. _Maybe we'll all get lucky and the idiot will get himself slagged_.

- - - - -

The sword was gone. That didn't surprise Megatron much. He could see where it had been driven into the soil, and an outline of Inferno's body around it. The ant had left quite a few pieces of himself behind when the others dragged him off, including a whole arm (_Now why couldn't they have collected that while they were at it? Idiots_) and a torso plate, but there were no signs of other Transformer parts amid the wreckage -- Maximal _or_ Predacon.

Standing in the middle of the devastation, the tyrannosaur turned slowly, surveying the scene with eyes and nostrils. He was missing something, he was sure of it. He had an eighth sense for vital clues and it was tingling strongly at the moment, as it had begun to when Waspinator told him of the sword. He wouldn't leave without answers of some sort.

Gradually, he began to piece together the fight in his mind. The aerial battle had taken place over that small patch of brush, as evidenced by the flattened area where Terrorsaur had crashed and the leaves and twigs sticking out of both fliers' armor joints when they returned. Optimus Primal had been shot down, according to their report, and was facing Scorponok; Megatron had already located their tracks, and a segment of Scorponok's claw left at the scene. Behind him was the tower, where the fliers had found what was left of Tarantulas after the explosion. At his feet lay Inferno, and that meant that Dinobot had been here...

There was one missing. Megatron frowned. There had to have been another player. Dinobot hadn't destroyed the tower. He'd already been over that; the demolition had been carefully rigged, charges set at specific points to ensure that no useable components remained. That meant a specialist... an expert.

The Maximals had only one demolition expert.

Nostrils flaring, the tyrannosaur began to sweep the ground around the remains of the broadcast tower, scanning the debris closely. Here and there burned small fires that had not yet exhausted themselves. It was hard to find tracks that had not been disturbed or buried by the explosion, but Megatron persisted, a hunter on the trail.

He had been ignoring the loud rumbles of thunder above until the first drops of rain began to spatter the soil. Suddenly, within seconds, he was drenched in a heavy downpour. Ran streamed off of his scales and sang against the broken metal girders and support struts. The horizon became hazy, and smells were rapidly dampened as the air became almost liquid. Megatron growled in frustration and the thunder answered back.

_Some days the very planet seems to conspire against me! I shall not be put off my search by a little inclement weather, nooo_...

Abruptly he halted. Something caught his eye: a hazy white cloud against the hazy gray mist that had begun to form at ground level. Something very hot was cooling rapidly in the rain. Approaching the source of smoke and steam, Megatron found a blackened hollow in the earth. It looked to have been set on fire, deliberately. Considering it was within twenty meters or so of where Inferno had fallen, that wasn't too much of a surprise...

Squinting, Megatron crouched. Looked closer. Scrutinized the patch of charred earth. It was hard to see, as the soil was rapidly darkening in the rain, but there seemed to be a lighter area where the flames had been blocked by something. Something relatively small, too small to be a body. Unless it was a rat's body.

The image clicked suddenly, and Megatron straightened up. Sweeping his head to take in the area from this angle, he finally put the pieces together. Here Rattrap had run after setting off the explosions, probably prematurely, possibly due to Tarantulas's interference. Here he had flattened himself in what he thought was a safe place... and as Megatron looked at the ground on either side, he could see deep impressions that could have belonged to a heavy piece of rubble. Quite possibly that twisted girder lying to one side. So the rat had been pinned, and then Inferno had found him. Then Dinobot had found them both. The ant would never have left his work unless he was attacked by an enemy.

But Dinobot hadn't finished him. Why?

Thoughtfully, Megatron stepped over for a closer look at that girder. It was pretty damaged by the explosion, but one area was dented slightly in a way that he was quite certain had been done by hands. Strong hands, strong enough to lift the girder off of Rattrap...

_While his sword was left buried in an enemy's body? An enemy that still lived?_

Everything Megatron knew about Dinobot made this seem a ridiculous hypothesis, and yet all the physical evidence pointed to it. Furthermore, if the sword had still been here when he left, he must have been occupied by something else. What could that have been? Something more important than destroying an enemy, something that would make him forget all of his deeply engrained priorities?

The image that now presented itself in Megatron's mind was well beyond ludicrous. He was tempted to dismiss it outright. But, he reluctantly considered, the sword. The rat, here. The handprints on the girder. Primal occupied in battle. Inferno, badly damaged but alive. The _sword_.

Steadily the rain poured, obliterating the telltale marks in the soil, as Megatron stood playing the improbable scenario in his mind. Dinobot challenging Inferno, defeating him... and then abandoning the fight. Dinobot shifting the heavy wreckage that had trapped his comrade. Dinobot leaving (leaving!) the battlefield, and his weapon, taking the vermin with him. The warrior turning his back on an enemy to rescue the most unlikely of his allies.

This was where the clues led: no answers, just questions more baffling than the ones before. Megatron tried to make sense of it. Perhaps, he reasoned, Primal had ordered Dinobot to retrieve -- but that thought died half-finished. Megatron had been Dinobot's commander for many, many decacycles. He knew full well what the warrior could and could not be ordered to do. No, to do something _this_ improbable, it would have to be entirely of his own oh-so-precious free will.

Part of his strange honor code, then. Or a flash of contrariness; he would not put it past Dinobot to resist the pull of his own nature in a fit of spite. Perhaps he had use for the vermin and could not leave him behind for practical reasons.

_Yes, and leaving his sword behind was so VERY practical. None of this makes any sense. Why assume he was behaving rationally at all?_

Maybe there was something more going on. This was, after all, a very Maximal thing to do; in fact, had it been any Maximal other than Dinobot, Megatron wouldn't have found the actions odd at all. Considering it _was_ Dinobot, however, one had to surmise that he had a particular reason for doing what he did. If not a practical reason, and if not related to his peculiar code (which would, if anything, never allow him to leave a battle half-finished; Megatron had found that out the hard way), there was no telling what it might be. It had been a while since the tyrant had had the opportunity to study his former lieutenant and get into his head...

_In that case, it would be foolish to stand around guessing, wouldn't it?_ The best way to understand Dinobot was to test him. Megatron could put all this to the test easily enough. If there was some reason the traitor would not let the vermin die, he could find it out for himself, the next time they both showed up on the battlefield.

_I will get to the bottom of this, yess. And if, by chance, it turns out Dinobot has developed a new weakness, well... that will be QUITE worth the effort_.

Personal mission fulfilled, the tyrant headed back to base as the storm swept over the battlefield, eliminating the traces of struggle left only hours before.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**Lady Katana4544**: It had better be set in Africa. The large mammal species featured in season one are gorillas, cheetahs, and white rhinos, and in season two we're introduced to a valley full of protohumans. That pretty much nails the continent it's set on. A couple of maps shown in the series also place events in North Africa (though other maps disagree and some don't look like the continents of Earth at all, oy). I pretty much go with the Wayward explanation that it's set roughly in prehistoric Uganda or Kenya. Bit less dry than it is today, and a lot more wildlife. No, it still doesn't explain the bloody tigers, but to be honest NOTHING explains the existence of a polar tiger.

(I am COMPLETELY IGNORING the presence of the Ark and Nemesis, which, aside from being a horrible stretch of plot to tie the series to G1 unnecessarily, would have shifted the set to North America with no explanation of how they traveled all that distance. Yeah, I ignore canon when it's convenient. That one just made me want to beat the writers over the head with a clipboard. "You set it on TWO CONTINENTS AT ONCE? What were you THINKING?")

**FriendoftheVampires892**: Pfft, Rhinox isn't a nice guy in the canon either. You just have to look closer to see it, because while everyone gets on Dinobot's and Rattrap's and even Cheetor's cases when they screw up, Rhinox can do evil things and somehow the plot fails to mention it, or the other characters don't even seem to notice. Which, if anything, just makes him more nasty. Sorry, but I call 'em like I see 'em. (Pitfighter no, that would be Dinobot; but Rhinox does have an awfully dark past, if you want to stick around to see.)

**Dierdre**: I love prophetic-dreaming Cheetor, for a couple reasons. The biggest one is that characters with extrasensory abilities in fiction are usually stereotyped as mystical or creepy types, and Cheetor is nothing of the sort. He's just an ordinary, in fact rather dippy, but sweet kid who doesn't even seem to realize he has dreams of the future every now and then. I won't be neglecting Cheetor in this storyline, believe me.

**Kayasuri-n**: You may think that, but Dinobot doesn't. He figures a shot in the shoulder is nothing to call in to work for, and if you're not missing vital components you shouldn't be heard complaining before, during, or after a battle.

Knew my childhood addiction to nature programming and biology textbooks would come in handy someday. :P Be nice if I was making money off of it, but decent fan fiction's the next best thing.

Rattrap has been through some THINGS. You have no idea. His life was no bed of roses. I'll get into that later. As you may have guessed, details aren't supposed to be revealed yet. (Also, I want you to know that the phrase "Rattrap, Dinobot's darling Kentucky Fried Rat" has made it into my personal fan lexicon.)

Technologically adept? You have no idea how much that made me laugh. No, but I can give you a few of my secrets. One is to do a little research -- you don't have to become an expert on a subject to learn a few basics and snag some neat terms to throw around. The second is, if you're familiar with biology more than technology (as I am), borrow some biology concepts for robots and just make them mechanical. (The whole description of Dinobot's dizzy spells and twitches caused by low energy levels? That comes from my own experiences with hypoglycemia.) Third, keep it casual. Most of your readers don't want you to get too technical, just make it believable so they can get on with the story. (I think the writers of the show carried that last one a little too far, but they figured it was mostly kids watching, I guess.)

Dinobot's mean to everybody, especially himself. He's been second-guessing himself his whole life. Doesn't stop him from making stupid mistakes, but it keeps him plenty grouchy, I'd say.

DECACYCLE = YEAR. That's according to Beast Wars canon. A nano-klik is about a second, a cycle is about a minute, a megacycle is about an hour, and a decacycle is about a year. Now, I don't know why a decacycle is larger than a megacycle or what the "deca" refers to; I've got a theory I'm still working on to explain that. But I didn't want to invent a time system, so for simplicity's sake I used the canon one from the source material, even though it makes no sense. (Yeah, sometimes I _don't_ ignore canon. What?)

I love long reviews. They give me a lot more to think about, and a lot more to reply to. By all means, ramble away. I like to see what's going on in my readers' heads -- I'm creepy like that!

REMINDER, FOLKS: PLEASE REVIEW.


	12. I Am My Guardian's Guardian

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 12)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: This was supposed to be the Valentine's Day chapter, but it's a couple days late. Oh, well. Plenty of sap for everyone who didn't get their fill on this site already.

- - - - -

Rattrap woke up gasping, squeaking in distress and beating the walls of his chamber with little rat feet. It took him a couple of seconds to overpower the beastmode instincts and calm the slag down.

All he could remember of his dreams was a set of snapping reptilian jaws with far too many teeth, apparently hungry for his little rodent self. No big surprise there, once he thought about it. Probably stemmed from all of his anxieties lately concerning Chopperface. Speaking of which...

The rat wiggled his fingers and toes, then felt over himself experimentally. Yep, all his fur was there. No trace of the burns. The CR chambers worked fast with superficial damage, no matter how extensive. He was a bit more concerned about the energon radiation and what that might've done to him, but since he felt fine, it must not have been too serious. _Weren't for Chopper though, I'd be way beyond repair by now. Slag, that was close_.

Shivering, he pressed the hatch button. He didn't want to sit around in here alone.

He was hoping that Dinobot -- or _somebody_ anyway -- might be waiting around when he emerged. But the whole command center was deserted. The spy looked around and sighed in disappointment.

"That's one thing to love about bein' a Maximal," he remarked out loud. "You never feel alone."

Of course, it was then that he noticed the lights on the other two CR chambers, indicating that they were occupied. _Oh, good. Guess Big Ape an' Featherhead made it back okay. That's two people I don't gotta worry about, anyhow_. Rhinox was probably in engineering, Dinobot might've gone off to refuel or returned to the battlefield, and who knew where the felines had gotten to. _It'd be nice to have a few more Maximals around here. Well, with any luck, that little disc I got myself cooked over's gonna help us fix that_...

A monitor beeped. Rattrap sighed dramatically. "Don't worry," he told the empty room, "I'll get it." He went to the nearest station and tapped a touchpad, activating the screen. External sensors showed an approaching Maximal signature. The identification code was Cheetor's, but he was moving pretty slowly. _Scrap, don't tell me the kid's hurt, too_. Rattrap switched quickly to one of the surveillance cameras.

Cheetor didn't seem to be injured, but he was dragging something. Rattrap sighed in relief. Then he got a look at the object in question, and alarms started going off in his head again. _What's he doin' with THAT, for Primus' sake?_

Half-afraid to know the answer, the spy lowered one of the lifts to let the kid in. A moment later Cheetor staggered into the command center, panting from exhaustion, the hilt of Dinobot's sword clenched in his teeth. He dropped it and it rolled slowly across the floor, stopping at Rattrap's feet as the spy transformed. Picking it up, Rattrap demanded, "Where'd you find this?"

Cheetor hadn't quite gotten his breath back yet. "Battlefield -- wreckage -- by the tower," he gasped. "Lying -- on the ground. Big Bot -- told me --"

"Alright, alright, don't pass out on me. Sheesh." Rattrap looked the sword over in dismay; it was charred, muddy and scratched all to the Pit. Dinobutt was gonna have a seizure when he saw this. "Best hope you didn't leave tooth marks, Spots."

Taking a gulp of air, Cheetor made a slightly more successful attempt at speech. "Sorry. Didn't have -- much choice. Tried to -- get it back here quick. Where's Optimus?"

Rattrap nodded toward one of the tanks. "Takin' a CR nap. He'll prob'ly be out soon. What'd he tell you, anyway?"

The cheetah flopped down for a rest while he explained. Apparently he'd gotten a call from Rhinox -- Rattrap had to backtrack him twice to get that bit of information -- saying that wounded were incoming and they might need an escort. Cheetor ran out to intercept and found Optimus, who told him that Dinobot and Rattrap had already gone ahead. Since Primal had his hands full (so to speak) with Airazor, he'd sent Cheetor back to the battlefield to retrieve Dinobot's sword -- warning him to watch out for Predacons on the way and to call for backup if he ran into trouble. "I didn't, though. There was nobody around, except some pieces of Inferno. Looked like the Preds got it handed to 'em pretty hard."

_Hey, I'M the one who got crispy-fried_, Rattrap thought, but he didn't say it out loud. The kid obviously didn't know about that (Optimus probably hadn't wanted to upset him with the details), and there was no point bringing it up now for the sake of a pity party. Besides, something was nagging at the spy. He looked at the sword, turning it over in his hands, trying to pin it down.

Cheetor, who was still babbling, eventually stumbled on it. "I can't believe Dinobot just left it there, though. He's always getting on my case about forgetting things, especially weapons. I remember once I lost my gun in an ambush and he almost looked ready to chew my tail off. Big Bot had to tell him to chill--"

He finally stopped, apparently catching the look on his teammate's face. "Hey, what's wrong? You look, like, out of it."

Rattrap shook his head. "I, uh-- Nothin'. Don't worry about it. Hey, lemme make you a deal." He produced the disc he'd made before the explosion and showed it to Cheetor. "See this? I gotta give it to Optimus soon as he wakes up from his little nap. But if you wanna hang around here an' wait for him" -- _which you will anyway, if I know you, kid, an' I'd like to think I do_ -- "you can deliver it for me. You finish my errand, an' I'll finish yours, find Dinobutt an' give him back his favorite big pointy object. Sound good to you?"

Sure enough, the young cat's face brightened. "Cool! Hey, thanks, Ratbreath. It's a deal." He transformed and gingerly accepted the disc from Rattrap. "I'll take good care of it, I promise."

The spy grinned. "You better. It might just help us get all our friends back from orbit."

_"Really?"_ Cheetor squeaked, nearly dropping the disc in his excitement. Rattrap shook his head as the kid scrambled to catch it before it fell. "That's great! Wait'll I tell Optimus!"

"I'm sure I can leave it in your capable hands, Spots. Just, uh, don't break anything, alright? I almost got myself vaped acquirin' that data."

"Hey, you can count on me." Cheetor grinned cockily, spun the disc on one finger, and nearly sent it flying. "Um. Meant to do that."

_Kids. Gotta love 'em. I'll give 'em that, you gotta love 'em_.

- - - - -

When searching for Dinobot, Rattrap decided the simple approach was probably best. First, he tried comming him. There was no response, which could indicate any of a wide range of things (he was asleep, he was patrolling somewhere out of range, his comm had been damaged during the fight, or he just didn't feel like talking), so the next step was to look for him at home. His quarters were usually vacant during the day, but it would be silly to go searching the rest of the ship without stopping by there first. And Rattrap knew the passcode. He knew _everybody's_ passcodes. He wouldn't normally dare use Dinobot's to enter without permission, but for the sake of returning a sword, he thought he might be excused this time.

Of course, it would be rude not to at least TRY knocking first (even knowing how unlikely an answer would be, whether Dinobot was there or not). So Rattrap reached his quarters and knocked.

Nothing. No big surprise there.

"_Ahem_. Yoo-hoo! Chopperface! I got somethin' of yours, thought you might want it back." He waited about thirty nanos, plenty of time, then knocked again and listened. No reply. Might as well've been shouting into a tomb.

The thought unexpectedly chilled him, making the fur stand up along his back. Rattrap shivered and started keying in the passcode. _If he's in there, he's probably asleep, and I can explain myself before he makes it across the room... I think. Otherwise, I'll just leave the sword here and wait outside 'till he comes ba_--

The door opened, and Rattrap immediately dropped the sword. Dinobot was slumped against the wall next to his energon dispenser, not moving. His head lolled forward at an unnatural angle and his optics were dark. Rattrap didn't think, he just panicked. He hit the floor next to the warrior and started shaking him hard. "Chopper?" he asked frantically. "_Dinobot!_ Can you hear m--"

There was an unholy scream from the warrior, dark and wild with terror. One long arm whipped out, and Rattrap slid across the floor before fetching up against the side of Dinobot's berth. He rubbed at the back of his head where it had impacted the metal, slightly dazed. "Guess he heard me."

Red optics were suddenly fixed on him. Rattrap instinctively froze, but it wasn't a hunter's gaze. Dinobot looked confused, blinking rapidly. He glanced down at himself, then around at where he was. Finally he looked at Rattrap again and his optics narrowed. "I suppose you're really here this time," he said quietly. Another few seconds for reality to kick in, and his face settled into a customary scowl, his voice rising to something resembling its usual snarl. "And therefore not in a CR tank, where you _should_ be."

Rattrap picked himself up. "Heh. Thanks for your concern, but I healed up just fine, Lizardface. Good as new, thanks to you." Calmly he dusted himself off, then burst out indignantly, "An' whaddya mean _I_ should be in CR? Look who came home and fainted from energon depletion after carryin' home a half-dead rat!"

"I did not FAINT," the raptor hissed, but he looked more uncomfortable than outraged.

"Course not, what was I thinkin'. You just suddenly decided to take a nap, on the floor, with the berth not ten feet away, an' decided not to wake up when I yelled an' pounded on the door an' then broke into your room--"

Dinobot growled, loudly, and Rattrap shut up, though he did not stop glaring. For a moment they held a contest of dirty looks, something they'd practiced frequently since they first met. Then the warrior looked away. Surprised to see him lower his shield so quickly, Rattrap moved cautiously forward. "Anyway," he offered in a lower tone, one of almost-but-not-quite conciliation, "I just came by to give you back your sword. You kinda came home without it."

Dinobot stiffened at that, but he still didn't look at Rattrap. The spy knelt down again, this time just out of reach. "You okay? Need a hand or anythin'?"

The raptor showed his teeth. It was more an expression of frustration than anything else, and Rattrap waited. Eventually, after a tense silence, Dinobot managed to grit out, "I... can't seem to move my legs."

"Oh." Now he understood the warrior's embarrassment. It was bad enough, he guessed, for a guy like Dinobot to pass out from "weakness." It was worse to be _found_ in such a state. But to be physically unable to get up off the floor... man, he could only imagine what Dinobot would feel like if Primal saw him like this.

"Hang on a sec." Rattrap went to close the door, fetching the sword as he did so. He came back and placed it on the floor beside Dinobot, within easy reach. He figured the warrior would feel at least a bit more comfortable with his weapon at hand. "Alright, so tell me. How much fuel did you actually get into yourself?"

Dinobot picked up the sword and laid it across his lap, resting both hands on it lightly. Almost immediately his composure seemed to return. He nodded toward the corner, where an empty energon container lay on its side. "Only that much. I don't think I finished it."

"Well. That would explain some things." If Dinobot's reserves were still low, he'd be bound to experience a few malfunctions. Like losing motor control in his legs after sitting too long. "Easy enough to fix, though. Hang on just a nano-klik, Chopperface -- we'll have you up an' stompin' around again in no time."

He snatched up the container, filled it, and handed it to Dinobot with a flourish. "Drink up, an' don't hesitate to ask for refills. I ain't goin' anywhere until you can stand."

The raptor grumbled a bit at such a fuss being made over him, but proceeded to drink without argument -- a victory by the standards of any day. While he was sipping his fuel, Rattrap took the liberty of giving him a once-over, since he was quite certain Dinobot hadn't spent any time in a CR tank today himself. For the most part, he looked none the worse for wear (_You're built to last, Lizard Lips, I'll give you that_), but Rattrap was perceptive enough to notice how gingerly Dinobot was holding his cup, almost by the tips of his claws. His other hand was resting kind of funny, too. Slowly, not wanting to cause another explosion by moving too suddenly, the spy reached for Dinobot's wrist and turned his free hand over.

"Slaggin' son of a-- You weren't even gonna mention this to me, were you?" he exclaimed over the burns on Dinobot's fingers and palms. The raptor's only response was to grunt moodily into his energon.

It took quite a lot of restraint not to smack him upside the head. Instead, the rodent began to swear, very colorfully. Dinobot just raised his eyebrows and drank while Rattrap took great care in cursing the raptor, his stupidity, his stubbornness, his ridiculous tolerance for pain, and his complete and utter refusal to admit that he was mortal. As the rat was calming down -- or possibly just running out of breath -- Dinobot finished and wordlessly held out his cup for a refill. Rattrap found the wind for a second round as he got up and fetched more energon for an ungrateful lump of metal and scales who, he was now sure, had to be smirking at him behind that stoic mask.

"-- an' Sigma's Core, how the slag did you ever make it this far on your own? I swear, you need more lookin' after than Cheetor. Maintenance? Who needs maintenance?" He handed Dinobot the cup, then searched his compartments until he found a familiar roll of tape. "Gimme your other hand, Scalebelly."

The raptor resisted, drawing his free hand closer to his body and scowling. Rattrap scowled right back. "Hey, it ain't my fault I gotta do this. You won't take care o' yourself, someone's gotta make the effort." His voice softened slightly. "C'mon, it's not like I'm gonna hurt ya."

There was another moment of hesitation, then Dinobot held forth his hand, wearing a Do Your Worst expression. Rattrap grinned. "That's more like it."

To the warrior's immediate consternation, he then plunked himself down in Dinobot's lap, shifting the sword out of the way so he could pin the raptor's legs solidly to the floor. "Just makin' sure you stay put 'till I'm done," the rat told him, still grinning as innocently as a protoform. He got to work, while Dinobot mumbled incoherently into his second cup of energon.

The tape wouldn't do much, but it would keep out foreign debris while his tissues were repairing themselves, and help protect the wounds from further tearing. Dinobot wouldn't have bothered with it himself -- and most likely would've been just fine without it -- but it made Rattrap feel better, and it gave him something to do, some small way of paying the warrior back. After all, Dinobot wouldn't _be_ injured if it wasn't for him. Maybe the raptor understood this, because Primus knew why he was playing along otherwise. He could easily have propelled Rattrap across the room with a single sweep of his arm (again), but instead he just sat there and griped a bit while drinking his fuel like a good patient.

Of course, Rattrap didn't mention this out loud. Probably would've jinxed it if he did. _Maybe he's just too tired to bother with fightin' me, for once. Or maybe he kinda likes someone fussin' over him. It's not somethin' he's used to, but it prob'ly feels nice. 'Course he'd die before he'd ever admit it_.

By the time he finished bandaging the left hand, Dinobot was through with his energon. He set the container aside and Rattrap glanced up. "You want another refill?"

"Hm. It should be adequate. My strength is already returning." Dinobot tipped his head back to rest against the wall and darkened his optics. "I will rest here for a moment."

Rattrap smirked. _Yeah, just for a moment. Sure_. "Well, gimme your other paw while you're at it."

He took his sweet time wrapping Dinobot's right hand, in no hurry to leave his position on the warrior's lap. In addition to burns, he found a rather nasty scrape on the knuckles of this hand. _SOMEbody got the slag punched out of 'em today, that's for sure. Too bad I missed seein' that_.

He wound up getting a little distracted by the hands themselves. Rattrap had a deep love and appreciation of mechanics, and Dinobot's hands were a marvel. In beastmode, the long fingers retracted almost entirely into what became the foot, and the flesh folded over, leaving only the claws exposed. In robot mode, however, the digits extended into multi-jointed precision instruments. They were flexible enough to bend backwards, yet strong enough, when curled into a fist, to smash into reinforced armor without breaking. The double thumbs usually functioned together, but could split and move independently if Dinobot wished. Rattrap, who could work minor miracles with own relatively stubby fingers, wondered what these hands could really do... if they weren't usually wrapped around a sword or buried wrist-deep in some unfortunate mech's wiring. He also wondered if these beauties had been designed on Cybertron or were the result of the beastmode reformatting. He thought it was probably the former; if anything, the design of Dinobot's hands seemed incongruous with the transformation into velociraptor--

Something brushed against the back of his helm, and he froze. Either it was his imagination, or those were clawtips. Very _careful_ clawtips. They traced lightly over the thick ridge that protected the back of his head, and Rattrap held still, picturing their every movement vividly in his mind's eye. They stopped on a particular spot, tapping gently.

"I didn't realize I damaged you."

It took Rattrap's fogged processor a second to realize what he was talking about. "Huh?" He reached up and felt his own head where Dinobot was poking him. He had to press hard to find a slight unevenness in the metal that could, perhaps, charitably be called a dent. "What, that? That ain't--"

"It was unintentional. You startled me. A warrior's programming can be... difficult to override."

Slag, he actually sounded upset. "Um, Chopper? I've been barbecued today. A whack on the head ain't nothin'. Don't worry about it." Rattrap patted the back of one scaly hand reassuringly. "Sheesh, you've sent me flyin' plenty o' times. I know you don't mean it. I mean, ain't that pretty much how Preds shake hands?"

Dinobot emitted a wry snort, a sound Rattrap had come to interpret as meaning You Have A Point. Then he went and twisted Rattrap's words from the previous day right back at him. "But that 'doesn't make it right', you said -- referring to yourself. So, should I be held to a lower standard of behavior than a vermin?"

For a moment, Rattrap sincerely hated him. Well, at least his logic. The worst part being that it was so damn hard to argue with. "That ain't exactly my point, Chopperface." He went back to taping up Dinobot's hand, working more quickly now, suddenly wanting this over with. "Point is, you may be a big smelly reptile an' a Pred turncoat to boot, but you deserve some respect. You've earned it. Me, I usually get what I got comin' to me."

The hand he was bandaging pulled suddenly out of his grasp. Rattrap stifled a squeak of surprise as it wrapped around his chin... and turned his head, slowly, gently, until he was face-to-face with the warrior. Dinobot was so close that Rattrap could count the perfect triangles of his teeth as he spoke. "And what _exactly_ have you done to earn this, rodent? You say I deserve respect, and I am far from innocent. Your crimes against this galaxy must be grave indeed if you are not entitled to the same."

He didn't receive an answer, because his partner in conversation was -- for once in his life -- utterly speechless. It wasn't just that Dinobot was practically breathing down his throat, or that the raptor was so slagging _eloquent_ when he wanted to be and wielded words with the same skill that he wielded a sword... those would have been enough to stun him, sure. But pricking at Rattrap's cocoon of self-doubt was like punching him in the gut. His whole identity was centered around the image of a lowlife scavenger who was worth nothing to anyone except himself. Being a rat was nothing new -- he had _always_ seen himself as vermin. He'd even found a way to make it a point of pride. Showing him respect had the same effect as showing Dinobot mercy. It threw his whole world off-balance.

Dinobot, of course, had no way of knowing this. Rattrap couldn't even articulate it to himself. All _he_ knew was that he felt something close to panic at the thought of being validated, by _Chopperface_ of all people. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Where were the insults, the threats? What happened to the game of Toss The Rat? He was the raptor's chew toy, for Primus's sake!

Inspiration siezed him. Remembering what had happened the last time, he closed the short gap between them and planted his lips on the warrior's. He'd surely get thrown on his aft again, which would be painful, but at least it would be normal.

Silence. There was no resistance at first, surprisingly, so he pressed on, waiting to be flung away. Any minute now the hand on his chin would tighten, yanking him off, or perhaps lifting him up for a good shake before throwing. Or it would move down for a better grip on his neck, or his chestplate, or reach up and grab the back of his head...

Slowly, the hand moved. It released his chin and drifted to his shoulder, resting there lightly, tentatively, while the other hand returned to cup the back of Rattrap's head. At that point the spy realized his plan wasn't working. He had dimmed his optics in preparation for violence, but now he brightened them again and found Dinobot's looking right back at him, with no discernible hint of anger. The spy broke away abruptly, staring, and Dinobot actually _smirked_.

"Are you going to end all arguments this way from now on, or only those in which your wits fail you?"

Rattrap was speechless. Again. Finally he managed to blurt out, "Slagger!" and thumped Dinobot's chestplate with his fist, a gesture of frustration with no real force behind it. The warrior chuckled, a deep sound, and Rattrap looked away in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Always happy to entertain." He fumbled for his roll of tape, dropped somewhere in the midst of the drama, and stiffened when he felt a claw under his chin again -- just a single claw this time. Sullenly he raised his head to meet the warrior's amused optics.

"If you're going to make a habit of it," continued the raptor, "at least show me how to retaliate in kind."

Rattrap's processor crashed.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**bit-Blackmage**: The stasis pods in this story have homing devices that, if their orbits decay, try to bring them to a landing as close to the Axalon as possible (that's how I explain them always landing within walking distance). Sometimes it works, other times not so well. Silverbolt and Quickstrike seem to be based on North American (specifically Southwestern U.S.) creatures, and I'll write that in if I can figure out a way for them to cross continents. Anyway, the story itself takes place in Africa. That's the long and short of it.

**Panur**: Glad you liked it. :) Where do you live? Screenname sounds Indian, but I wouldn't know.

**Robin Moto**: In Megatron's mind, he is perfectly normal. This is true of most psychopaths. Therefore it's not really creepy when you're reading from his point of view, but when you step back and look at what he's actually thinking... yeah.

**flamingmarsh**: Don't worry hon, I like your reviews anyway. Thanks!

**MuzaiandYuuzai**: Sorry, but Pangea broke up roughly 200 million years ago. The time period Beast Wars is set in was never firmly established, but it must have been less than 4 million years ago -- in fact, best guesses put it at about 80-180 _thousand_ years ago. The continents back then looked about the same as they do now. Good guess, though.

**Kayasuri-n**: Scorponok's the blue guy with the big pincer-hands and a scorpion tail he can never get rid of. He dies at the start of season two.

Keep in mind, Megatron has only read the Predacon-propaganda version of the history of the Great War. It made the Decepticons out to be a lot smarter than they actually were (which has to have some Predacons wondering how they lost the war in that case).

No, he wouldn't kill them for showing affection. Worse -- he'd have fun with it and see how far he could push one by threatening the other. He plays enough games with his troops as it is. They don't want to give him more fodder. Besides, Predacons strike at weaknesses and personal attachments are usually seen as weak; hence, relationships are hidden as a matter of course. Not that it does much good around Blackarachnia. She can smell an opportunity for exploitation a mile away, but she hasn't bothered to do anything about it, mainly because neither one of them interests her.

CR stands for either "Creation/Restoration" or "Cryogenic Regeneration". I'm mostly going with the latter idea as it makes more sense. The stasis tubes used for creating new Transformers (in this story anyway) look a bit... different.

We all love Rattrap. Sadly, bad guys must be bad guys, and Rattrap does tend to get himself into these situations with regularity.

Transformers typically have seven: Visual, audio, olfactory, chemical analysis by contact ("taste"), tactile, electrical, and something similar to radar. "Sixth sense" really didn't apply. (Of course, I wouldn't put it past Megatron to believe he had more than that...)

Oof! Thanks. I'll go back and fix that bugger. Hopefully no one else noticed.

Dinobot doesn't really glorify his injuries; he just doesn't think they're anything to bawl about. When they're severe enough to put him out of commission, he gets pissed off. Otherwise pain is just an annoyance. (Actual kills, on the other hand, he will boast about until everyone's sick of it.)

I'm working on a couple of ideas for original fiction, but it's up a completely different alley. I can PM you if you're interested in details.

Interesting you should say that. There's a not-so-funny story involving a badly beaten Rattrap and a scrap collector who didn't bother checking if he was still alive. Like all such stories, it ended with Rattrap getting away, but... well, Dinobot's not the only one with nightmares. At least now they can fight each other's demons and take a break from their own.

Ugh, yes, consistency. Please to have it in canon? Thanks. (I love the show, I do, but sometimes I wonder if the writers ever even glanced at a science textbook.)

Megatron wasn't always an idiot. Or at least he didn't always act like one. Also, Dinobot owed him. It's complicated. We'll get to all that in a bit.

**Dierdre**: I like your idea about the timekeeping, and it pretty well jives with what I'd figured. The "cycle" measurements are generic, designed to keep time on various planets or in space, and not be based on the traditional Cybertronian measurements of time. Works for me.

Eh, it's kind of fun writing Megs at his nastiest. I do feel bad for Terrorsaur, though, really. Beatdowns are part of Predacon life, and it's a wonder some of them put up with it, but in reality some of them just don't have a choice. Terrorsaur's one of the Preds who's stuck between a rock and a hard place now. Megatron's job offer sounded good at the beginning, and now that it's gone sour, he's stranded on an energon-contaminated rock with limited resources. He can't trust the Maximals (as far as he knows), and if he leaves the Preds and manages not to get shot in the back, he'll have to hunt all his food and won't have access to a CR chamber. It's safer just to stay where he's at, even while Megatron comes closer to killing him every week.

(Yes, Blackarachnia is awesome. Even when she's being a bitch.)

Thanks for the feedback, all of you. Keep it up!


	13. This Product Not Intended As Food

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 13)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Apologies that it took so long to update. Not only was the chapter itself difficult, I was also dealing with school finals and re-registration blah blah blah... but you don't need to hear about that. Here's some more Dinobot and Rattrap, and a bit of plot (hah!) to go along with it.

- - - - -

_What are you DOING?_ shrieked the inner voice that had tormented Dinobot for days. Beneath his smirk, a war was raging in his processor. Unfortunately, his opponent was a capable warrior, ruthless, persistent, and familiar with his ways. This was why Dinobot hated arguing with himself. External opponents could be cut down far more easily.

He had no idea what he was getting into. As usual, he'd taken a look at unfamiliar waters, sniffed in disdain, and decided to jump in at the deep end. It didn't matter if he couldn't swim. What mattered was that he have the courage to do it in the first place. Hesitation and doubt were usually the cause of failure, in his mind.

At the same time, he still didn't understand half of what all this was about... and what he did understand told him he was way out of his league. So proceeding was entirely against common sense. Downright foolish, in fact.

_Oh, well. That's never stopped me before, has it?_

Impatiently, he tapped his claw against the underside of Rattrap's chin. "Well? Speak up. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were broken."

Still looking dazed, the rodent blinked rapidly several times. "Uhh... Just threw me a little off-guard there, is all. I mean, if this is your idea of a joke..."

Dinobot frowned, cutting him off. "I wasn't _joking_, vermin."

"... Oh."

The warrior waited several nano-kliks, until it became apparent that Rattrap wasn't sure what to do. Then he decided to make the next move himself. It couldn't be that difficult, right?

It actually proved to be quite a challenge, bringing one's mouth into contact with another's. His beastmode was better at biting targets accurately (but then, his beastmode would've made this even more awkward). Unable to see his own mouth, he had to go by feel, and found his nose a hindrance when it bumped up against a cheek ridge. Then there was the odd shape of the damn spy's mouth, which didn't offer easy contours to gain a purchase on, and his own teeth, which kept scraping against metal when he tried to press more firmly. Efforts to keep them covered only resulted in him biting his own lip.

He would've given it up in frustration, except that Rattrap finally recovered his wits somewhat and started helping. The spy didn't have to do much, just tilted his head slightly to give a more comfortable angle and opened his mouth a little so that they could actually lock. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, even while still in a half-trance, and it crossed Dinobot's mind to wonder just how often he'd done it before.

He didn't have much chance to concentrate on that thought, however, as feather-light fingers began creeping up his chestplate. His first impulse was to draw back, but he fought it, willing himself to stay still while they moved further up towards his neck. Suddenly he tensed -- involuntarily -- and Rattrap froze. Images of a much larger hand wrapping around his throat flickered alarmingly near and there was a shudder as fighting reflexes were suppressed. Thankfully, the rodent was no fool and his intuition for dangerous predators was uncanny. He immediately eased his hands away, out toward Dinobot's shoulders -- a much safer zone -- and began running them lightly along his arms. The tension slowly bled away.

_That was close. Perhaps I should rethink this..._ The warrior gave full and serious consideration to the matter while bringing his own hands up, very tentatively, to place them against Rattrap's sides. His long fingers curled around the diminutive torso like a cage, almost completely encircling it. The tips of his claws pressed lightly into the fur of the other's back, and damn if the rat didn't shiver. His respiration became fast and harsh, overheated air venting against Dinobot's mouth; the warrior fought to keep his own even and controlled. He didn't dare break the kiss. He might end up having to meet Rattrap's optics if he did, and he was certain that would cause his nerves to desert him.

Now he felt the spy's hands working their way back up his arms. Clever fingers traced the gold ring of armor that protected each shoulder joint, then moved down either side of his chest, exploring everything they came across. Whatever they were searching for, they kept finding places that even Dinobot hadn't been aware of. It was somewhat uncomfortable. Not that it hurt; far from it. But the sensations were... disturbing.

He retaliated by digging his claws in, just a little, just to regain some control of the situation. He was surprised as hell by the reaction. Rattrap... made _some_ kind of sound into his open mouth, a very _new_ sound, while his fingers froze in place and clutched the ribbing on Dinobot's sides as if to anchor himself. His whole body shuddered and seemed to arch into, rather than away from, the pricking clawtips. Something inside Dinobot woke, lifted its head, and sniffed the air hungrily. He released the spy's mouth and sat back a little, enough to see his expression. Dazed optics looked back at his, and there was _something_ in them that notched the hunger up tenfold. An invitation, perhaps... or a plea. The warrior smirked.

His left hand tensed, holding the rat firmly in place. His right hand moved up and dragged slowly down Rattrap's back, clawtips raking through the fur just hard enough _not_ to tear flesh.

The smaller mech seemed almost to go into a siezure, head whipping back and fingers scratching frantically, futilely at Dinobot's armor. From his vocalizer came a sound not of Cybertron, an ultrasonic squeal that Dinobot had previously heard only from rodents -- not in pain, but in play -- which shredded through the former Predacon's last confused layers of rational thought. The beast within him roared and sprang onto its eager victim.

He regained control a second later to find the rodent's shoulder in his mouth and the smaller body pinned tightly beneath his. The familiar, sweet taste of mech fluid informed him that he had bitten right through the armor. Rattrap had gone suddenly very still, and that was enough to jolt Dinobot to his senses. He lifted his head and found the spy staring at him.

After a moment's awkward silence, Rattrap chuckled nervously. "... Man, Lizard Lips, I thought you said you weren't hungry no more."

Horror set in and Dinobot pushed himself up, staggering back away from Rattrap on still-unsteady legs. "Slag!"

Rattrap raised a brow-ridge at him. He managed to sit up, though with difficulty, as his right arm was responding sluggishly. "You okay?"

"Am _I_ okay?" Dinobot wiped his mouth with the back of a bandaged hand. "Of all the slagging questions -- What is _wrong_ with you?"

The rat glanced down at his wounded shoulder. "Well, I seem to be leakin' a bit, but other'n that I'm just perky, thanks." He offered an easy grin, which Dinobot deflected with a scowl.

"You IDIOT! Do you realize what could have happened?" Dinobot was just beginning to realize it himself, and it was sending him into a near panic. He could still feel that furry beastflesh yielding beneath his claws, could still taste the vermin's vital fuel in his mouth. Worse, the hunger had not dissipated. Part of him still very much wanted to jump the rodent -- and not in the way Rattrap probably hoped.

If the rat had ever seen Dinobot in the gladiatorial pits of the Predacon sector on Cybertron, he might have understood what he was risking here. Then again, it was possible he understood just fine. At times Rattrap seemed to harbor a deathwish that even the morbidly-inclined warrior found perplexing. In any case, his response to Dinobot's outburst was a shrug.

"You got a little outta control, that's all. It happens. I prob'ly pushed you too fast."

He really should have known how much loss of control meant to the warrior, and that his attempt to be reassuring was anything but. Dinobot did not like the idea of his self-control being at the mercy of another. He had enough of a struggle with his berserker programming and beastmode instincts as it was... and Rattrap seemed able to set him off like no other, Maximal _or_ Predacon. What they had just been doing could very easily have gotten the spy deactivated. Dinobot should have known better.

His optics flicked to the oozing gash in Rattrap's shoulder, then quickly away. "You should go... have that seen to."

"Huh?" Rattrap looked at the wound again. "Nah, it ain't serious. Self-repair systems'll take care of it, nothin' to worry about."

Dinobot's scowl returned full-force. "I've injured you twice in the last megacycle. _I_ worry about that. _You_ should worry about that."

"Look, don't get melodramatic on me, alright? Accidents happen."

The warrior folded his arms. "Famous last words, vermin. They'll be yours if you keep this up."

Indignant, the spy rose to his full height, facing the warrior about mid-torso. "I can take care o' myself just fine, Bronto Brain! I don't need you, Optimus, or any o' the others to babysit me."

"So you say, after nearly being terminated this very morning!"

Just like that, they were arguing again. Both tried to be civil at first, but within a few cycles, Rattrap's reassurances and Dinobot's expressions of concern degenerated mostly into name-calling.

"Listen Dino-boob, if I wanna gamble with _my_ life, it's _my_ slaggin' business!"

"Then at least leave me out of your suicide attempts, Filth Eater!"

"Since when did you get so concerned for my well-being, Scaleface?"

"If I wanted you dead, you masochistic mouse, we would not be having this discussion!"

Their "discussion" by now was loud enough that most of the ship could probably hear. Eventually their voices overlapped and they were no longer verbally fencing, merely trying to outscream one another. The short distance between them, meanwhile, gradually closed -- Dinobot actually bending down to give the rodent a full verbal barrage and a whiff of carrion besides -- until they were yelling at each other with faces less than a foot apart. Finally Rattrap reached out and gave the warrior a shove, actually pushing him back an inch or so, at which point Dinobot wrapped one long hand around the spy's chestplate and lifted him off the floor...

Both of them froze, Rattrap dangling freely from the larger mech's grip. Optic-to-optic they glared, as anger became shock, then melted into uncertainty. Rattrap blinked first, his expression softening. Dinobot opened his mouth to speak, but stopped in astonishment when a small hand reached for his face.

His perverse desire for the touch warred briefly with the instinctive urge to bite the approaching hand, and with the fear of succumbing to that urge. But Dinobot never had a chance to find out what might have happened. At that instant, the door to his quarters opened.

"What in the Pit is going on here?" demanded Primal's voice.

- - - - -

Rattrap sat in sullen silence while Rhinox repaired his shoulder. After he'd insisted five or six times that those little bitty teeth marks would heal themselves just fine, and nobody had listened, he'd eventually settled for ignoring everybody right back, glaring at the wall in mute protest. Back in Dinobot's room, he knew, the warrior was getting a talking-to by Optimus. Probably embarrassed as hell too. Well, at least the rat knew he wasn't alone in that.

He himself was currently receiving a lecture from Rhinox, who was doing everything short of saying "I told you so" while trying to act like he wasn't angry with Rattrap. The latter was pretty much a lost cause as far as the spy was concerned. The Big Green hadn't even bothered to numb Rattrap's shoulder before working on it -- it would've taken him a small electro-disrupter and about five seconds -- which was a sure sign he was slagged off at him.

"First you come in half-cooked, now you come in half-eaten. Some days I'd swear you do it on purpose." Rhinox shook his head as he sealed off the wounds with a small welding laser. Rattrap focused on the pain because he didn't want to hear the nagging. _Everybody_ seemed to be nagging him lately, and he was getting sick and tired of it.

"I don't suppose it would be _too_ much to ask for you to go one whole rotation without getting shot, smashed, blown up, gnawed on, or fried to a crisp. It might leave me time to get some actual work done. Not to mention saving our supplies." He tapped the laser emitter sternly against Rattrap's arm. "At the very least, you could stop hanging around people with sharp teeth and short tempers. Next thing I know you'll both be trashing Sentinel again."

Ahh, that fond memory. Rattrap briefly thought of bringing another incident in retaliation: the one where Rhinox had held him up in the line of fire against the entire Predacon forces, the very day they'd arrived on Earth. _For a guy who doesn't want me to get hurt, you sure do pick ways to show you care_. But he knew he'd never say that. Aside from being a stupid thing to say to the guy who was fixing him (and who could very easily make this even less pleasant, if he wanted), it would just make an ass out of Rattrap. Rhinox was the _only_ guy who cared about him sometimes. It wasn't always the fuzziest friendship, sure, but Rattrap wasn't about to jeopardize it.

He did speak up in Dinobot's defense, however. "Hey, he didn't mean to chomp me. He may be a big smelly saurian with a bad attitude, but the guy did save my life. I told you, this was an accident."

"Oh? Just how did he manage to do _this_--" He tapped the fresh patch on Rattrap's shoulder and the spy winced -- "on accident?"

"Enh." Rattrap shrugged lopsidedly with his good shoulder, reaching up to rub at the patch. "It's not important. He was... he was havin' a bad dream or somethin', an' I surprised him. He wasn't too happy about wakin' up." That much at least was true, and he hoped it would satisfy his friend's questioning.

Rhinox didn't seem entirely convinced, but other than raising an eye-ridge, he let it go. Putting his tools away, he announced, "We're done. I'll take that patch off tomorrow, provided you leave it alone. Don't even think about removing it yourself."

"Yeah, sure. I know better." Not that he was looking forward to Rhinox's tender mercies again, but things would go better if he didn't mess with the technician's work. Besides, the Big Green was usually right about these things. Rattrap would've been scrap a long time ago if his pal didn't keep putting him back together, and if he took better care of himself, he wouldn't have to go through this kind of thing on a regular basis.

_But then there's always things worth gettin' scrapped for, ain't there? Like savin' them protoforms in orbit... or gettin' to sit in Dinobutt's lap_. Damn, just thinking about that made him want to smile. It _had_ been nice, until it went kablooey, and hey, everything did that. But for a minute or two back there...

Rattrap's reminiscing was interrupted by Primal, who had evidently run out of things to lecture Dinobot on. Rubbing his face wearily, the Big Bot glanced back and forth between the two mechs. "Rhinox, if you're through, I need to talk to Rattrap for a minute."

Packing up the last of his tools, Rhinox nodded. "Is it anything I shouldn't hear?"

"No, I don't think so. In fact, you'll probably need to know about this." With that, Primal produced the disc Rattrap had procured. "Cheetor tells me this has something to do with the stasis pods in orbit, but he was pretty excited and it was hard to make out details. Care to elaborate?"

Now that he was faced with the opportunity to announce his success, Rattrap was suddenly shy. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. "Well, uh... Turns out Tarantulas had a couple good ideas that might've actually worked, if we hadn't gone and blown that tower. When I got a look at what he'd rigged up, I made a quick little copy of his schematics--"

"After I ordered you to get out," Optimus interrupted, gently reproving. Rattrap's embarrassment deepened.

"Uh... Yeah." He didn't dare look over at Rhinox. He was sure he'd catch hell from him later over the fact that he'd almost been killed disobeying Primal. "Sorry 'bout that. It's just, I couldn't let the opportunity pass, y'know? If we could copy what the Preds did ourselves, here in the _Axalon_, we could recall the stasis pods right down to our doorstep. No more waitin' for 'em to drop out of orbit an' crash, no more racin' the Predacons to save each one. Who knows, we get enough of our friends back an' we could kicks Megs' purple butt clear off this dirtball!" He realized he'd gotten a little ahead of himself, and checked his excitement with his usual pessimism. "'Course, it might not work, and maybe I got fried for nothin'. But at least it's a shot. I mean, heh, what've we got to lose?"

He looked up at Optimus hopefully, willing him to at least give his plan a try, to tell him he _hadn't_ risked his life for nothing. His commander's face was difficult to read.

"Rattrap," he began in a lecturing tone.

_Oh boy, here it comes_. Rattrap sighed. "Yeah, what is it, boss?"

Primal's expression softened, into a genuine smile of gratitude. He reached out and clapped a hand gently on the spy's uninjured shoulder. "Well done. The Maximals owe you for this. If it works, we'll owe you even more."

Rattrap's Spark leapt. This time he had to fight to keep a goofy grin from spreading across his face. "Don't mention it, Big Ape. S'what heroes do after all, right?" He didn't say the words "thank you", but he hoped Primal would hear the gratitude in his voice, all the same.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**FriendoftheVampires892**: Yep, they're both morons. Morons in love. I want to knock their heads together, I do...

**Melora Maxwell**: Don't know about perfectly, but I do try to stay within the bounds of character. It's hard to do while tearing through 35 episodes' worth of Unresolved Sexual Tension. -_-

Cheetor "gets" it more than you'd think. He just doesn't have much experience with this sort of thing himself. He's going mostly by what he's heard, and you wouldn't believe the stuff that poor kid's head has been filled with.

**T.B. Stormshot**: Even if you've appointed yourself a protector, you'll need protection yourself. Dinobot often fails to realize this.

**Dierdre**: Behold, I bring you more sexy, more snark, and (hopefully) more character development. I hope you had a feast this chapter, m'dear.

**COMING SOON**: Cheetor has a secret, Dinobot has angst, and Megatron starts playing his head-games with our favorite Maximals. Oh, and the stasis pods? Things don't go exactly as planned...


	14. We Now Return To The Plot

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 14)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right. Love is never easy... especially with these two.

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Another long-awaited update, I know. Bad coincidental timing of LJ and real-life drama that left me not wanting to even look at the story for several days. (After this I stop making excuses for delays, I swear.) Anyway, boring chapter, but we see Kinder, Gentler Rhinox (aka Rhinox Whenever Primal's Around) and Cheetor experiencing the wonders of teen angst... or is it something more troubling?

- - - - -

"So what do you think, old friend? Could this actually work?"

Optimus stood looking over Rhinox's shoulder as the tech sat at his workstation, going through the data Rattrap had retrieved. (The spy had been dismissed with orders to rest and to leave Dinobot alone for the time being; after their last conversation, Primal doubted the raptor was in a sociable mood.) Rhinox was deeply absorbed in the schematics, and it was a moment before he answered the question.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this," he mused out loud. "Tarantulas may be crazier than a grounded Seeker, but he's a sharper engineer than I am."

_I doubt that,_ Primal thought, but he knew that trying to get Rhinox to give himself due credit was a lost cause. "At least you don't leave webs all over the engineering bay."

"Hm, true. Well, we'll have to build some of these parts from scratch... that can be done. We're missing a few raw materials, but I'll see what I can dig up. Power source will be tricky, but I've got a few ideas. Of course, it still needs to be set up in an open spot as close to the _Axalon_ as possible, not to mention protected from Predacon retaliation..."

Primal patted the bulky mech's shoulder. "I'll worry about all that. Can you do this?"

Rhinox shrugged beneath his hand. "Sure, why not? It wouldn't be the first time we've pulled off a miracle."

Grinning, the commander clapped him on the back. "Nothing worth doing is easy, right?"

"Wouldn't mind a break once in a while," groused the tech, then sighed. "So, now I've got a list of necessary but unavailable parts, a formula calling for five or six times more energy than we can spare, and a diagram written by a madman. When do you want this done?"

"The Predacons will figure out what we're up to before long. We need to work fast." There was the briefest pause. "Can you do it in a week?"

The sigh this time was long, deep, and profound. Optimus didn't prod him any further, just waited.

"I swear, the things I do for you..." The tech rubbed his heavy brow ridge with one hand. "All right. But I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Primal gave his shoulder a squeeze. He knew Rhinox would deliver, no matter how impossible the task, once he decided it could be done. "Help won't be a problem, I promise. We'll make this a priority. If it works, it might win the war for us."

Rhinox tilted his head back. "Oh, great. No pressure then."

"Come on, where's your optimism?"

Without hesitation, Rhinox pointed up at him. "Right behind me." It was an old joke of theirs, and gave them both a chuckle.

_Good to know we CAN still laugh_. Everyone seemed to be on edge lately, including Rhinox. Optimus was glad to see his old friend acting like himself again, and much of his own laughter was from relief at seeing Rhinox lighten up.

"It _will_ be nice to have a project to work on," Rhinox admitted after a moment. "Might help keep my mind off other things."

Optimus moved around the chair to stand at Rhinox's side, allowing him to see his friend's face. "What _has_ been on your mind lately? You've seemed pretty tense the last couple of days, since..."

Rhinox waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, it's nothing. Just worried is all."

"About anything in particular? I mean, no offense, but worrying about everyone and everything at once is supposed to be _my_ job." Optimus hoped the light tone would get another smile out of him, but instead, Rhinox's expression became grim.

"Not this time. This one's my problem, if it's anyone's. I guess I don't have to get involved, but if I don't, and something happens... then what?"

It was true, Primal was many things, but an idiot wasn't one of them. It was his turn to sigh. "You're worried about Rattrap."

Rhinox brushed away an imaginary fleck of dirt from the screen, not looking up this time as he answered. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a bit. Now I get where you're coming from, but I don't think--"

"I know what you think," the tech interrupted. "Again, I wish I had your optimism. But I know Rattrap. If he's playing the same old game he used to play on Cybertron, we're in for trouble." He swiveled his seat to face Primal. "You weren't there when he got caught flirting with a Syndicate hand's favorite consort. The guy had his legs lopped off and tossed him in the gutter for the trash collectors. Guess who he called to come scrape him off the pavement?" He shook his head. "Didn't teach him, either. That wasn't the last time he went off chasing something he wanted even though it said TROUBLE in big neon letters. I should've given up at some point, but somebody had to keep him from getting himself killed. No one else seemed to care, least of all him..."

"Rattrap?" It was all Optimus could do not to burst out laughing. "Rattrap avoids trouble like a hot wire. I can barely order him into a firefight. He likes taking risks about as much as I like having my coolant changed."

"If that were true, he wouldn't gamble with other people's money. Hell, he wouldn't _gamble_. He also wouldn't pick fights with mechs twice his size, or try to steal from high-sec buildings for fun!" Rhinox's voice began to rise, and he caught himself. "Look, I don't know what it is. He doesn't talk about it. Gets mad if I even ask. Maybe it's overconfidence, maybe it's a test of his own skill, maybe he's even testing _me_ to see if I show up to rescue him. Maybe... he just has a deathwish." He saw Optimus's expression and his frown, if possible, deepened. "Look, I'm not making this up."

"I didn't say you were," Optimus quickly reassured him, though he still couldn't help but think his friend was overreacting a little. "I mean, for a guy so bent on self-preservation, he does pull some pretty insane stunts. Sometimes just because he has to, but not always. Maybe he does get a thrill out of it. But he's still alive, so I'd say he can handle himself." With a little smile, he added, "You worry too much."

The look he received now said You Have Got To Be Kidding Me. "If Rattrap's seeking thrills, and his latest thrill is Dinobot? I don't think I'm worrying nearly _enough_. And neither are you, by the sound of things." Giving up on the argument, he turned away. "But I thought you'd say something like that. I've already decided to let it go. This time, if he wants to get himself mangled, I'm not going to stop him. Not like he'll listen to me anyway."

Primal couldn't help but feel for him. He reached out, grasping Rhinox's upper arm lightly, until the tech glanced up at him. "I understand your concern, old friend. For both of their sakes -- and yours -- I hope you're wrong."

The other mech nodded once. "Believe me, Optimus, I hope you're _right_." Then he turned back to his work. "But in any case, it's out of my hands now."

- - - - -

Rhinox needn't have worried anyway. For the rest of the week, Dinobot was more elusive than Tigatron. He came and went like a ghost, spending most of his waking hours out on patrol, returning to rest and refuel mostly after dark. Hardly anyone had a chance to speak to him, least of all Rattrap, who in any case was busy day and night working with Rhinox on their new transmitter.

The only person he didn't quite manage to avoid was Cheetor, who had taken his request to be informed of goings-on at the base quite to heart. Either that, or he was bored and thought that hunting down Dinobot would be a little more interesting than whatever busy work Optimus might dig up for him. In any case, he managed to catch the raptor often on his patrol routes, and though Dinobot did not seem in the mood for the company, he made no efforts to drive him off. He would continue on his way as though alone, while Cheetor paced him or pattered along just behind, talking until he ran out of things to talk about. At that point he would wave good-bye to Dinobot and trot off back to base, feeling accomplished. Dinobot hardly said a word to him -- not that he would've been able to get many in edgewise -- but never silenced him, except to listen for the sounds of fliers or the skittering of giant arthropod legs.

Only once had they actually run into a Predacon, two days after the tower had been blown up. Scorponok had managed to look surprised by their presence despite Cheetor's unmistakeable babbling. Realizing that he had likely just launched a cyberbee, Dinobot had attacked without hesitation, driving the Predacon into hasty retreat. A short while later Cheetor had managed to shoot down the cyberbee on its way back to its creator. They weren't able to salvage the data, but at least whatever it had recorded would not make it to Megatron.

"What d'you think he was after?" Cheetor wondered aloud as they examined the wreckage. "The Preds don't know Rattrap made copies of Tarantulas's plans, do they?"

Dinobot poked a claw at the small recording device. "Impossible to be sure. But it would be best not to underestimate Megatron. He probably knows we're up to _something_, and driving off Scorponok will make him even more suspicious." He glanced over at Cheetor, and there was reluctant approval in his gaze. "Your aim has improved," he said shortly before turning away. Cheetor nearly shorted from surprise at the compliment.

On the fourth day after the tower was destroyed -- four days after he'd bitten Rattrap and chosen to inflict semi-exile on himself -- the raptor came across the cat for a change, apparently waiting for him on the trail. He stopped in midstride and stood looking at Cheetor for a long moment in silence. The cat stared back.

"When are you gonna stop hiding?" asked Cheetor suddenly, prompting Dinobot to draw his head back in a velociraptor gesture of surprise.

"Hiding?" His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Cheetor looked down at the ground. Something seemed _off_ in his expression, his posture, but Dinobot wasn't a people person and he didn't pay attention enough to be sure of what was different. "I was just talking to Rattrap. He thinks you're cheesed off at him, and that's why you're staying away."

Dinobot blinked. "He-- What?" _I'M the one who bit HIM, remember?_ "That doesn't make any _sense_."

"S'what I told him, but I don't think he was really listening. Just wanted someone to vent to." The cat huffed. "Gets old fast, nobody listening to you."

"Does it really," the velociraptor snorted drily.

Cheetor glared, and Dinobot sensed the adolescent angst radiating from kittenish green eyes. _Well, he had to start growing up sooner or later. It's seldom a painless process_. "Is that why you've been hiding out here?" the younger Maximal asked bluntly. "Just tired of dealing with everyone?"

"I am not _HIDING_." A chorus of birds fell silent as Dinobot's voice rose, but Cheetor didn't flinch. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and Dinobot actually felt a twinge of shame. "Fine. If you must know, I prefer my own company. I am far more useful out here, protecting the perimeter, than mucking about in the base. As for the vermin, he has work to do. I don't see why he should complain that I've been keeping out of his way."

The cheetah shrugged. "Ask him yourself. Sorry, but I'm through running everybody's messages. You want to know what's going on back at base, you can be your own eyes and ears. Not like you really care, anyway, right?"

Dinobot jerked back, beginning to wonder if this was some kind of imposter dressed up in Cheetor's skin. "What in the Pit is wrong with you? You were only too eager to be my eyes and ears before now. Have you finally outgrown your appetite for gossip, or are you worried about arousing your comrades' suspicions?" He looked closely at Cheetor, and some of the acid melted from his tone. "Or... is it that you have other things on your mind?"

Something flashed across Cheetor's eyes, too quick for Dinobot to catch. The impression it left was _guilt_. The cat wasn't telling him something. Now he looked confused and agitated, almost angry.

"Why don't you mind your own business for a change? I just came by to see if you were coming back anytime soon, that's all. Rattrap's all mopey and I just wanna cheer him up. Everybody's in such a mood lately--"

_Including you_, Dinobot threw at him mentally, _chiding me for 'sulking' when it's clear you've come out to do the same_. "And you hoped for a sympathetic audio, perhaps? Someone to vent to, as you put it, about how the others misunderstand you?" _What do you know of being misunderstood, furball? At least they don't look at you as if you're going to EAT them. Granted, I find that impression useful to maintain at times, but still_... "In that case, why aren't you pouring out your woes to Tigatron? It smells as if you've already run into him. I'm surprised his flower-sniffing euphoria hasn't rubbed off on you."

During the last few sentences a marked change came over the cat: his body tensed, his eyes widened slightly, and his ears flattened to his skull in the gesture of a scolded kitten. When Dinobot stopped talking, Cheetor tried to cover the reaction, but it was too late. The Predacon had seen him falter, as surely as the wild dog sees the misstep of a wounded gazelle. Dinobot cocked his head curiously, concealing an inner stab of concern and alarm -- he might be starting to care for the other Maximals, but he still wasn't in the habit of showing it.

"Did I say something... unsettling?" he inquired mildly, though fixing the cat with a piercing stare.

Cheetor looked away. "I..." He closed his eyes and gave a quick, decisive shake of his head. "No, it's nothing. Anyway, you're right. I'll leave you alone."

"Cheetor," Dinobot barked as the younger Maximal turned away. The cat paused, not quite looking back over his shoulder, and the raptor chose his next words carefully. "There has been... little perimeter activity the last few days. Tomorrow I will see if my skills are needed at the base. In case..." _In case you want to talk_ was almost said, but not quite; that would be the Maximal thing to say, but then, Dinobot wasn't a very good Maximal. "In case there is any trouble at home," he finished instead, hoping the message would get through anyway.

He wasn't sure if it did or not, but Cheetor glanced back at him and nodded. "Thanks. It'd be nice to know where to find you, if things got crazy."

_Just a matter of time around here_, thought the warrior wryly. "Well," he snorted, "I can hardly leave you all to the mercy of your own wits. At least one of us has to keep a level head."

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**akisawana**: Suppose I put him literally in a cage? Except then he'd get out again. He's a terrible prisoner, not that anyone really wants to capture him anyway. (Besides Terrorsaur who, forgive me 'cause I love him dearly, is a boob.)

Rhinox is really turning out like an inkblot in this. As in, everyone who looks at him sees something different. I think that's a good sign, writing-wise...?

**andalitebandit-6**: I think Dinobot nearly had a heart attack too. As for Rattrap, yeah, he's been around the block more times than my old bicycle.

(Dinobot does not like hands anywhere near his throat. There are a few good reasons for this. One of them is named Megatron.)

**FriendoftheVampires892**: Personally, I think anyone who choses to hold a makeout session with a guy who has a mouth like a Cuisinart should not complain about an overexcited nip. :P

**Panur**: Argentina, eh? W00t! Most of what I know about Argentina centers around its amazing killer whales. :P I'm sure you could tell me more. Thanks for the review.

**Dierdre**: Ugh, a perfect kiss would kill this story so hard. Did I mention one member of the pairing has a mouth like a Cuisinart? And the other doesn't even have lips to speak of. Just writing them trying to figure it out was immense fun in itself.

In Dinobot's defense, people usually only touch him during combat. ;) Guess what his conditioned response is?

Well I don't know about you, but I'd remember the platform goldfish boots, if not the person who wore them. Still, I get what you're saying and I'm thrilled, actually, that you think I'm doing such a good job. There are times I almost want to give up on this and a handful of reviewers get me through it. (Alas, don't compliment my character backstories until they're fully revealed, at which point you can usually spot gaping holes that embarrass me forever.)

That eulogy may have started my eternal love for this pairing. I'm not sure. It certainly cemented my love for Snarky Yet Sentimental Dinobot. (He so did not believe Rattrap was dead. I think he was just trying to lure him out with insults.)

I love Primal. I love G1 Prime, too, and there's a place in my heart for Animated... but Primal is just unique in his down-to-earthness and the outstanding quality of his voice acting. It's too bad he was downgraded from a character to a plot device later in the series, but then, that was part of the downfall of the show in my book. Megatron... I've never liked any Megatrons much, but at least the Beast Wars variant made me laugh. Hard. (Also, despite the at-times comical lunacy, he was probably the nastiest of the lot. I still shiver when I see him with Rampage's caged spark.)

**Shamoosh**: I lived in the Arizona desert for many years and never heard an accent like Quickstrike's. I don't care. It's so bad I love it. You can say anything in that voice and it'll make you laugh. No, really. Try reading news tragedies in Quickstrike's twang sometime. You will snort milk out of your nose.

Oh, Megatron's nasty gets to really shine in this. I don't want to put kid gloves on him. I want him to make readers shiver. He certainly made _me_ shiver, back in the day. (Still does sometimes.)

Canon is teh devil! :P It's my AU personal fanon and I like it that way.

**yohaidee**: Rhinox isn't evil. Believe me, we'll see evil in this story if I get far enough. Rhinox provides us with examples of good guys doing bad things, generally with good intentions. If his actions in the story seem to stretch character, please, by all means, tell me. (He does have secrets, and yes, they do play a part in the plot later.)

The spiders don't really want anything with Dinobot, so they have no interest in getting to him. For now. But they will be plotting, as always, I assure you.


	15. Look What The Cat Dragged In

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 15)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than their needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Writing was on hiatus during a hellish school term. Sadly, this one isn't turning out much better. I'll update whenever I can.

- - - - -

"What are you doing?"

Rattrap didn't even look up at the sound of Rhinox's voice. Optics firmly fixed on the datapad in his hand, he answered, "Reading."

"I noticed. I meant, why weren't you in engineering?"

"Cause I was here."

Rhinox sighed, but not loudly. It was going to be one of those days, apparently. No need to let Rattrap know he was getting to him already. "Rattrap, that transmitter is less than half rigged and I told Optimus we'd have it ready two days from now--"

"Oh, yeah. Seems like I remember you sayin' that. 'Cept, you know, I wasn't there. Nobody bothered to consult me on the timetable." Putting the screen in Rest mode, he lowered the pad and raised his optics to meet his friend's. "Seein' as I didn't agree to no deadline, seems only fair I should decide the pace I work at. An' I decided I need a break."

A heavy brow ridge furrowed. "Rattrap," the green mech began in a tone of strained patience, "this is no time to screw around. You of all people know how important that transmitter is. You risked your life--"

Rattrap abruptly sat up from his casual slouch, waving an arm dismissively. "Know how much sleep I've had the last four days, Rhinox? Guess."

The engineer's frown deepened, but he didn't respond.

"Now I know it ain't entirely your fault, I woulda worked my tail off for this project anyway, but the truth is, I'm crashin'. Almost electrocuted myself twice yesterday 'cause I couldn't focus on what my hands were doin'. At this point I'll have to start shootin' stims if we're gonna make that deadline. We both been down that road before, an' if I remember right, it wasn't pretty."

Rhinox sobered at the reminder and looked away. Rattrap went on, voice dropping into the wheedling, coaxing "Be reasonable" tone he often donned when trying to present logic... or an excuse. "I know you made a promise to the monkey, big guy, an' I hope to the Pit we can keep it. But I bet he won't be happy if I blow us all up 'cause my processor's gone numb, either. I need a break. So do you. For bootin' up cold, when's the last time _you_ took a nap?"

The rat's reasoning sounded awfully tempting, and it hit Rhinox suddenly just how tired he was and how badly he wanted an excuse to take a break. He almost gave into it, even though he was well aware of the rat's knack for wriggling out of work given any excuse. He could just drag Rattrap bodily back to the engineering bay, of course, but that would result in resentful rat being little to no help at all. Rhinox sighed.

"Fine, take the day off for all I care. I'll see what I can get done on my own." Maybe guilt would accomplish what argument could not. Rattrap wouldn't let him work alone for long, or so he hoped.

The spy appeared slightly disappointed in his friend declining much-deserved rest, but then he shrugged indifferently. "Suit yerself," he said with his familiar not-my-problem tone. But as Rhinox turned away, he added, "I'll bring you a cube later just to make sure you don't pass out. Boss'd probably find some way to blame it on me anyway."

The tech just shook his head without turning around. _Pest. Would be easier not to like him if he didn't occasionally pretend to care_.

Rattrap, meanwhile, settled comfortably again and returned to his reading. He didn't plan on a long break. Just a couple of megacycles tops, to settle his nerves and quiet his mind before going back to work. He'd let Rhinox think he would be slacking indefinitely, of course. It was fun to give the big guy a pleasant surprise now and then. He'd saunter in cheerful and fresh and show Rhinox just what good a little selfish time could do. The image made him chuckle slightly, occupying him more than the text he idly scrolled past his optics.

Between this, that and the other, his rather wandering mind was completely unprepared for more company, and though he detected the footsteps, he failed to register their significance... until a taloned hand reached over his shoulder and snatched the datapad neatly from his hand.

"Hey! What the--"

"What occupies the rodent so?" a familiar voice hissed thoughtfully. "Pornography, I'm guessing. Possibly something so base and puerile as to actually lower my opinion of you... if that is still possible."

"You wish," came the automatic retort even as Rattrap stared incredulously up at the interruption. There were more than a few things he wanted to say to the saurian, but Dinobot was momentarily ignoring him in favor of reading the datapad... Sudden horror flooded the vermin as he remembered what was actually on the screen.

Most of Rattrap's vices and idiosyncrasies were well known -- often all too well known -- to the rest of the crew by now, yet he'd managed to keep a few secrets. There were things it would be too painful to let them know, things that might disappoint even their lowest expectations. One item he'd shoved into the deepest closet possible was an inexplicable taste -- one might even say a _passion_ -- for that lowest form of literary self-gratification, the pulp romance novel. Damsels in distress, knights in gleaming armor, lonely maidens, alluring strangers, forbidden loves... it was like a drug. He didn't know _why_ he liked it. He'd be the last to call it good writing, and it certainly didn't fit with any given definition of his character, which was why he wouldn't let it on under anything short of torture. Let them see his porn collection, sure; it was as vast and varied as anything their imaginations could conjure, even knowing him. But if anyone found him reading about the tough yet vulnerable pilot swept off her feet by the bounty hunter with a heart of gold, Rattrap might actually die from humiliation.

He made a frantic effort to snatch the datapad back, only to have it held easily out of his reach. Dinobot sensed his distress, and being the thoughtful and considerate bastard that he was, decided to heighten the embarrassment by reading out loud. "She could still feel the ghost touch of his smooth-alloyed fingers on her forearm, lingering like a sensation from a dream. Perhaps it _was_ a dream, for she could hardly believe that--"

"SLAG YOU STRAIGHT TO THE PIT AN' BACK, YOU CARCASS-CHEWIN' LEATHERY MENACE! I'LL RIP YOUR CLAWS OUT BY THE ROOTS AN' STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN TAIL IF YOU DON'T **GIVE THAT BACK!**"

Dinobot read on, with dawning incredulity, pushing Rattrap down and away with one hand: "-- hardly believe that uncharacteristically warm gesture, or the words her dazed mind had almost failed to register..." His voice had begun to break in an odd way, and Rattrap dimly realized, in the midst of his own wild protests, that the warrior was on the verge of helpless laughter. "...had come from the _(snort!)_ cold-eyed, distant mech who had been her companion _(hmf!)_ for the last half-stellar cycle..."

At that point he seemed to lose the inability to form coherent sentences, and only read on with widening optics and eyebrows straining to take flight, until finally he dropped the pad and slumped against the wall, shoulders shaking with mirth. Rattrap grabbed the incriminating thing and hastily shut it off, though it was too late to do any good. He was in such a state of mind that if he'd had a weapon drawn at that moment, he might have actually attempted murder. Months and months now he'd been trying to make the raptor laugh, or at least lighten up a little. He'd finally succeeded -- at the cost of his last shred of dignity.

_Well, I'll be damned if I'm just gonna stand here an' let him laugh at me_. "You're _DEAD_, Chopperface!"

He lunged with such a power of rodent rage behind him that Dinobot, already half-helpless with laughter, was knocked off his feet. Rattrap tried to lay into him, but it was hard to punch someone who wasn't taking it seriously, and Dinobot didn't even try to hit back, just let his little fists ring ineffectually against thick fighter's armor while he kept laughing. Insults, curses and threats of horrific violence poured from the smaller mech's mouth without receiving any response. Then laughter bit like a bug and Rattrap, infected without warning, broke down into helpless giggles and doubled over on the fallen warrior's abdomen.

"You... are such... a complete an'... unapologetic bastard," he wheezed unforgivingly between hyena-like whoops. Dinobot just patted him roughly on the back, a condescending gesture of good humor that left the rodent slightly stunned.

"You are never allowed to mock my taste in literature again." The raptor seemed to have recovered his composure admirably, but he didn't make any attempt to get up. His hand lay where it had fallen, almost casually, and Rattrap found he didn't have much desire to move either. But his pride was still stung, and he made a point of shrugging off Dinobot's touch before pushing himself to his feet.

"Well, glad I can make you laugh, Butchermouth." He leaned over the raptor's head ominously. "If you tell _anyone_ about what you saw on that screen, I'll see if I can make you scream. _Capiche?_"

He tried to sound fierce, but judging by the reaction, he failed. Dinobot rolled his optics and sat up, brushing himself off. "You take yourself far too seriously."

Rattrap caught his jaw before it could hit the floor. "I... _I_ take myself seriously? Comin' from Mister Don't Mess With My Image, guy who spends half the day broodin' an' the other half makin' the rest of us look bad? You think _I_ need to lighten up?"

Dinobot grunted. "_I_ am a warrior. _You_ are comedic relief, at best." He flicked disdainfully at Rattrap's nose as he got up. "Act your part."

"So I'm not worth takin' seriously, is that it? Well, why didn't you just mention that before, when you were so full o' nice words--" Rattrap bit back on the rest of the comment, perhaps too late. He hadn't meant to bring that up again so soon. It just seemed so contradictory, even for Dinobot. He'd been all serious and considerate then, and now he was as big of a jerk as ever... had anything even really changed?

To his credit, Dinobot did look abashed. He opened his mouth, then closed it, reminding Rattrap oddly of a fish trying to breathe out of its element. Finally he said, with a straightforward honesty, "I was joking."

"... Oh."

They stood in a quagmire of awkwardness for several very long seconds. Rattrap was still angry, but now he felt like a bit of an ass himself, for having taken the playful stabs seriously. They'd been playing this game now for over a year, and he ought to be used to it. That said, having seen the sincere side of the warrior once, it was hard to be content with teasing again. Things were going to have to change. He just wasn't sure how. And right now, he decided, he didn't care. He had enough things to deal with.

"Forget it," he said, waving his hand. "Just a stupid novel anyway. Nobody'd believe you even if you spread the word."

"Rattrap," the warrior said in exasperation, and the spy jumped -- that was the second time recently that Dinobot had addressed him by name -- "if you swear me to silence, I'll be honor-bound not to break it. I _can_ keep secrets."

Suspicious, Rattrap eyed him. "In exchange for what?"

A loud frustrated growl sounded more like the Dinobot he knew. "_Nothing_, you sewer-crawling simpleton. Blackmail is dishonorable." (Rattrap was pretty damn sure he'd seen evidence Dinobot believed otherwise, but who was he to argue with a good excuse?) "I'll be all too happy to pretend this did not happen, and to never mention that literary garbage again. Satisfied? Or do you wish to sulk some more?"

"Nah, you'll do enough sulkin' for the both of us." Later, Rattrap vowed, he could try to figure out Dinobot's reason for letting off the hook. Like when he wasn't trying to figure a bunch of other slag out. "Fine, it never happened. Agreed?"

"Indeed."

"So, uh... before _nothin' at all_ happened, what'd you want exactly?" Rattrap retreated his dropped datapad casually, wiping the screen as he spoke, like the subject was of only the slightest interest to him. "What brought you back from the land o' the lost? I was startin' to think you'd fallen in the river."

There was no answer for a moment, and he was about to look up and actually try making optical contact when Dinobot finally replied, "I had to get rid of Cheetor."

Rattrap glanced up. "Huh?"

"He insisted that I come back to base. He wouldn't leave until I agreed." Dinobot scowled. "I thought about eating him, but I'm not fond of hairballs. This seemed like the simpler course of action."

A smile twitched at the corners of the vermin's mouthplates. "Heh, yeah. That kid can be such a pain, y'know?" And silently, _I owe you a big one, Furball_.

"I'm sure he had good intentions." Dinobot snorted in mockery of his own statement. "In any case, if I cannot patrol in peace, I can at least try to make myself useful. Perhaps even assist you with this pet project you almost got yourself killed over. Unless you think the rhino would object."

Well, true, Rhinox probably wouldn't be thrilled... but he also wouldn't deny they could use the extra hand. Dinobot was no engineer, but he knew his technology. He'd worked on their signal towers before and even set up a few relays on his own. Besides, with him on board, Rattrap wouldn't have to attempt any more heavy lifting. They might actually manage to meet Optimus's deadline.

"Lizard Lips, if you'll just grab a wrench an' follow me, I can find you about a dozen things that need doin'. Pit, if you even want to just _paint_ the thing for us, we'll be in your eternal debt."

"_Hmh_. If you want me to make you look lazy, I'll gladly oblige. Perhaps you can read to us while we work."

Dinobot managed to dodge the datapad that was promptly thrown at him.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

... Surprisingly, no one had questions. Just a lot of compliments. YOU PEOPLE HAVE LOW STANDARDS. That said, I'm grateful and hugs 'n cookies to the lot of you. Review! I've missed getting reviews!


	16. Still Choking On My Pride

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 16)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than their needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Another fairly boring chapter, but at least the more interesting story arc is getting started now. Expect plenty of action and drama next chap.

- - - - -

"It's finished."

Optimus turned away from the balcony in surprise. "Already?" _It's only been six days!_

Rhinox raised one of his heavy brows. "You said a week, didn't you?"

"To be honest, I would've been satisfied if it had taken twice as long." Optimus shook his head and clapped a hand on the tech's shoulder. "Nice work."

"Hm. Don't give me all the credit. Rattrap and Dinobot are running final diagnostics as we speak."

Primal blinked. "I thought Dinobot was out on patrol?"

Rhinox shrugged. "Maybe he got bored. Just as well -- we needed the extra hand."

"You could have just asked me." _If you were having trouble meeting the deadline, why didn't you say so?_

"You were busy enough. I didn't want to give you anything more to worry about."

_That answers that question_. Optimus appreciated the intent, but it still bothered him when his crew didn't give him honest feedback. He'd say that much for Rattrap: the little fleabag would flat-out tell him when one of his insane plans was going down the recycler. "Thanks for the consideration, old friend, but you should learn to notify me when I'm asking something impossible."

Rhinox considered this, then acknowledged it with a slight nod. "If you ever do, I'll let you know. Anyway, it's done. Where are we going to set it up?"

Primal turned to look back out over the plain. "I've been thinking about that. It needs to be close to the _Axalon_, so we can retrieve the pods quickly before the Predacons can beat us to it."

The engineer nodded. "But not so close that it drops on our heads. Or brings the Predacons through our front door. You know, as soon as we start broadcasting, they'll be on us like flies."

"I know. Believe me, it's been on my mind." Optimus sighed heavily, then straightened his shoulders. "I've scouted around. I think our best bet will be one of the plateaus to the west. It's a direct line of travel from the _Axalon's_ entrance, and it's wide open, with no mountains for the pods to smash into. It's not the best place to hide, and we'll be pretty conspicuous, but it's on high ground. At least we'll spot the Preds coming."

Rhinox nodded. "Hopefully, we'll only need to establish direct contact with a single pod. I can relay the coordinates from there to the other pods in orbit. That way, we don't need line of sight on the ground to contact them all." There was a long, hanging pause before the inevitable dash of pessimism. "If it doesn't work, the first pod will likely just crash. Near the base if we're lucky, and if we're not--"

"We'll worry about that if it happens," said Primal firmly, and the engineer fell silent. Optimus had spent much of the last week thinking over everything that could go wrong with this plan. He didn't need a reality check from anyone else. "We have to think positive, and try for the best-case scenario. Pit, any results will be better than we would've had not doing anything." _Provided we don't get any Maximals killed trying to pull this off_.

"Point made. Well, when do you want us to set it up?"

Primal thought for a minute. "How quickly can you finish work on it?"

"We've done all we can indoors. The final assembly has to take place outside. Shouldn't take more than a couple megacycles, if I still have Rattrap and Dinobot helping."

"We'll need them on-site, anyway." Optimus nodded. "All right. Sunset's in an hour... we should probably try to get this done under cover of darkness. I don't like evenings, the Predacons are too active then. We'll try after midnight."

"Tonight?"

"I don't see why not. Do you?"

Rhinox shook his head. "We're ready to go. Sooner we try this out, the less we all have to wait for something to go wrong."

Primal couldn't help but wince. "Do you always have to be so cheerful?"

"Sorry." He really did look abashed, and Primal reminded himself that Rhinox was just trying to be a good advisor, not an overwhelming drag. "I should get back to engineering, anyhow. My gloom and doom are needed elsewhere."

The commander raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. We really need you to counter Rattrap's buoyant optimism and Dinobot's blithe spirits."

He almost had to laugh at the look on Rhinox's face. _Must've been a fun week for him. I can only imagine what those two have been like to work with_.

- - - - -

"You got your wires crossed, Leatherlips."

"_Hmh_. Said the pot to the kettle."

"No, smart-aft, I mean that literally." Rattrap reached past him, batting Dinobot's long fingers fussily out of the way to reach delicately into the tangle of wiring. "Sheesh, what a mess. Glad I caught this when I did. Rhinox woulda had a fit if we'd fried this thing as soon as we turned it on."

"Well, we wouldn't want THAT, would we?" Dinobot drew back to let him work; this was more the rat's area of expertise, and anyway, he was the only one who insisted on being so picky. The whole thing should work fine as it was -- in fact, in Dinobot's opinion, the last day or so of tweaking and fine-tuning had been largely unnecessary -- but that was techs for you. "Good enough" was never good enough for them. As an all-around survival expert, Dinobot could wire together just about anything he might need that wasn't insanely complicated, up to and including explosives. But it wasn't anywhere near his favorite chore.

From within the multicolored snarl of cabling, Rattrap gave a humorless chuckle. "No, trust me, you wouldn't. He don't get angry real often, but it's reeeeeally not pretty when he does. An' if I'm the one who screwed up... Yeesh."

Pretending not to be too interested, the warrior idly tested a couple of seams on their latest creation, making sure the bolts and welds were secure. "What you consider 'not pretty' is probably civil by Predacon standards. I doubt that Rhinox would be a match for me."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by rustling and tinkering. Dinobot had almost figured he'd dropped the subject when Rattrap spoke softly, barely audible to the Predacon. "Do me a favor an' don't ever try to find out, okay? I don't wanna be near either of ya when that happens."

The seriousness was almost chilling, coming from him. Dinobot curled a hand into a fist and studied it for a few seconds before changing the subject. "This _will_ work. I have no doubt of that. The hard part will be keeping Predacons away from it."

Rattrap emerged, dusting himself off, and grabbed a scanner to run one more quick diagnostic. "Yeah, they'll prob'ly pull out all the stops on this one. We pissed them off good blowin' up their tower, not to mention stealin' the idea."

"Both of which were _your_ doing."

"Tch, yeah. Really hope Megs doesn't figure that one out."

The raptor gave him a pointed look. "Most likely, he already has." They were alone, so he allowed a bit of concern to rise in his voice and expression. "You should remain at the base, just in case. Megatron's grudges are as dangerous as they are petty."

Rattrap smiled at him, a lopsided smirk that conveyed nonchalance he probably wasn't really feeling. "Believe me, I'd love to. But y'know Optimus -- he's gonna want my ass on the line. All the technical expertise we can get, an' all." He shrugged. "'Sides, this was my crazy idea. Might as well see it through. I know heroism an' self-sacrifice ain't my usual scene, but hey -- I gotta break character sometimes."

Dinobot was suddenly, painfully aware of how he felt about this mech. He forced himself to look away as the disarming smile grew wider. _I should have listened to myself. This is going to drive me mad_. "You're a fool," he growled over his shoulder, "and you choose the worst possible times to display courage."

"Yeah, but that's one o' the things you love me for." Soft, barely audible footsteps moved a few paces closer. "You do, don't ya? That's why you're worryin' so much."

It wasn't, perhaps, the most tactful way to broach the subject, but it was direct and straightforward, as Dinobot preferred. Much to his dismay, the warrior found he couldn't answer it in kind. In part because it was a subject he knew very little of, though he had read a great deal, all of it confusing.

He opened his mouth, closed it. "I." He shook his head. "I need to clear my head. I have spent too much time in here with... all of you." He hadn't meant to insult, but it was too late to retract the statement; at worst Rattrap would think it was a remark about his smell.

The spy didn't get upset, just nodded. "Too soon. Gotcha." Then, as if it were any normal conversation, "Well, go out an' get some air, then. Surprised you stuck around as long as you did. 'Preciate it, though -- this wouldn't a' gone so fast without you."

"No need to thank me. I'm doing my job." The warrior transformed and stalked out. "If anyone else needs me," he said over his shoulder, "I'll be in communicator range."

"Right," Rattrap muttered. Once he was alone, he allowed himself a sigh. _Second time lately I've chased you outta the base. I gotta learn to be less forward_.

"Where's he going?" rumbled a deeper voice. Rhinox must have bumped into Dinobot on the way back to engineering. "You two didn't have another fight, did you?"

The spy gave the tech his best _You WOUND me, sir_ expression. "He just got tired o' the close quarters, I guess. What, it's my fault the broodin' lizard can't stand to be around anybody else?" Amazing, he noted inwardly, how easy it was to muster up the old bluster and insults... as if he still meant them.

"Well, as long as he doesn't go far. We'll need him soon." Rhinox dropped his voice slightly, as if wary of Predacons listening in. "Optimus wants it set up before dawn. The longer we wait, the more likely we lose our element of surprise."

"Lost cause, if y'ask me. The Preds've prob'ly already figured out what we're up to." Rattrap had fallen back into a pessimistic mood.

"Maybe." Rhinox shrugged; he was used to the rat's discouraging attitude. "Anyway, if you've finished those diagnostics, better go get some rest." That was Rhinox-speak for, _Let me look over our work one last time and make sure nobody screwed up before we try this thing in the field_. He always had to complete his final anal-retentive ritual in solitude -- which was fine by Rattrap, really.

The spy threw up his hands dramatically. "If I'm finally given permission t'leave this workhouse, count me outta here!" He tossed the diagnostic scanner he'd been fiddling with to Rhinox, then was gone before the tech could reprimand him for throwing around things that couldn't be easily replaced.

- - - - - -

For almost an hour now the _Axalon_ had been in the shadow of the surrounding mountains. Dinobot couldn't see the sun where he stood, but its slanted rays still colored the western sky. The last of the day's heat was rising from the ground, shimmering in his infrared vision. He listened to the normal bird calls and animal chatter of the evening for a moment, to make sure that nothing in the area had disturbed them. When he was satisfied, he went for a walk.

Below the edge of the cliff only yards from where he'd stood, a small crevice looked out on the roaring gorge at the base of the falls. The crack was narrow and deep, just wide enough to hide a small signature dampener and a very bored, very impatient Predacon.

Undetected, Blackarachnia sighed. She'd been posted here for the better part of a week, stealing away only twice to report back to base, refuel and rest. Her task was simple enough: Wait. Wait until the Maximals finally set out on whatever mission they'd been preparing for all this time. Then contact Megatron as soon as they'd left.

It wasn't a bad assignment, really. Certainly easier than Scorponok and Terrorsaur having to provide distractions, making occasional spying runs into Maximal territory so they could get caught and booted out, luring the enemy into a false sense of security. That was an old, old trick of Megatron's that the Maximals still didn't seem to have caught on to. They hadn't even bothered to look around just outside the base itself. Once she'd settled in here, Blackarachnia was all but invisible, even to the local wildlife. Easiest job she'd had in ages.

It was also the most boring one she'd had in ages. Quite frankly, she couldn't wait for it to end. She'd rather be shooting someone, or hunting, or even helping Tarantulas with one of his disturbing projects. She really hoped the Maximals put their brilliant plans into action soon.

From the valley below came a screeching chorus as the local troop of vervet monkeys protested Dinobot's presence. At least after dark those noisy hairballs fell silent, along with most of the birds. Of course, then the hyenas and lions started up. And the crickets. Just listening to them singing was making Blackarachnia hungry.

_Any time now, Primal. My morbid curiosity aside, I don't really enjoy spying on you all that much, so let's get it over with, shall we? And if Megatron's wrong and you're not up to something big, I'm going to kill him_.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

Several people have asked whether Rhinox wants Rattrap for himself, given the jealous behavior he's displayed. I can sort of see where some might get that impression, but it's really barking up the wrong tree. Best friends can be just as jealous, if not more, than potential lovers when a new interest comes along. And he's also motivated by (some) genuine concern for Rattrap's safety and a distrust in Dinobot's intentions. All of which explains his reactions a lot better than, "He's in love with Rattrap." Hopefully I can make that clearer in further chapters. (Trust me, if Rhinox has it bad for anybody, it's the ape.)

I still say you all have low standards. But, I'm glad I'm making someone happy, at least. If this story serves no other purpose, that's still a pretty good one.

Let's see, do we have any questions... Hmm, yep, a few.

**Eerie Iri**: See above paragraph.

**Sneer**: Relationship? Possibly. Was it romantic or sexual? No. Friendship qualifies as relationship.

**Kayasuri-n**: Rhinox just acts like almost every mechanical or electrical engineer I've ever met. When they've got a job to do in front of them, they don't like to set it aside for anything. I've had to drag mine away just to make him get a drink of water and a towel for his forehead.

Megatron's always plotting. If you mean his current one, just wait a couple chapters and see.


	17. Finders Keepers

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 17)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Action time! Extra rating this chapter for violence. People will get shot, stabbed, and beaten up. It's all robots, but still. Fair warning.

(Also, I have apparently been misspelling "there" as "their" in the Warnings for SIXTEEN CHAPTERS and just now noticed. Nobody, including my beta, caught on to this. _Rrrraaargh_.)

(**A/N**: Have edited to include reviewer reply section below. Somehow forgot it when I posted this. Sorries!)

- - - - -

When the _Axalon_ dropped out of orbit fourteen months before, it had ejected several dozen stasis pods. Only four had since been recovered. Unknown to the Maximals, two others had crashed into the ocean well outside of recovery range, their homing beacons failing entirely. The rest remained in loose orbit, scattered around the globe like a necklace of alien debris, together with scraps blown off of both ships during the fight. Bombarded by solar radiation and vulnerable to impacts with passing meteors, the would-be colonization crew remained in stasis, blissfully unaware of their plight. The computers within the pods, however, were slowly using up reserve power as they scanned for signals from their mother ship.

Out of the blue, one of them picked up something.

From the planet below, an area not quite yet touched by the sun's rays, came a faint but urgent signal. The message was garbled and indistinct, but its frequency was a familiar one. The pod's onboard computer lit up fully as it tried to process the signal. A simple calculation was made.

_Origin point too distant. Proximity needed for greater signal strength. Reduce altitude to investigate, Y/N?_

The computer had limited decision-making capabilities. It sensed that its power was low and that using its small supply of fuel to break orbit would likely be a one-way trip. But it was programmed to recognize this signal frequency and respond to specific command codes. When it received the codes but couldn't decipher the command, its decision was made for it.

Weak thrusters fired, pointing the pod at the origin of the signal. It began to descend toward the uppermost cloud layer, leaving its comrades floating in the void.

- - - - -

"Anything yet?"

Rhinox shook his head. "Signal's still pretty weak. I doubt we're even reaching the pods."

Optimus fought an impulse to bang his head against the side of the tower they'd constructed. It had taken longer to set up than he'd predicted, and had only been ready to start broadcasting about two hours ago. The horizon was already lightening, and their operation already felt painfully exposed. Optimus sincerely wished he'd been able to think of a better location.

"Can we do anything to boost the strength?" he demanded of his tech. _After all that work, we're not going to give up THIS easily_.

"I'm doing everything I can, Optimus. There may not be any pods in range yet. We'll just keep broadcasting until we get _some_thing."

Unfortunately, he was right -- there was nothing else to do but wait. Optimus found a low hill near the fruit of their labors from which to look out over the plateau. Anxious and impatient, he saw Predacons in every shadow and every rustle of the sparse grass. Rhinox was standing at the base of the transmitter tower, monitoring power levels, while Rattrap was perched on top of the structure waving a long-range receiver at the sky. Dinobot had gotten restless and slunk off to pace a perimeter around their work site; Optimus could no longer see him. Where he could have disappeared to up here, with miles of visibility in nearly every direction, Primal had no idea... but it made him feel better to think that any Predacon trying to sneak up on them would likely encounter the raptor first.

Cheetor had been left at the base. He'd put up quite an argument with the commander over it, saying the _Axalon_ didn't need a live operator with Sentinel on guard, and that they'd need every available gun on hand to defend the transmitter. Optimus had replied that they needed someone at the base just in case, that they couldn't reach Tigatron and that Airazor was keeping an eye in the sky for them near the Predacon base. He finally had to pull rank to put an end to the discussion. The younger Maximal was probably still sulking. At least now, whatever happened, Chee-- the base would be safe. One less thing for Primal to worry about.

_"Big Bot, you there?"_

Speak of the devil. "What is it, Cheetor?"

"Airazor just called." The _Axalon's_ long-range equipment was far better than their personal communicators, so Cheetor got to act as relay between their field parties. "She says the fliers just left the Predacon base. Probably just going out on patrol, like usual, but..."

Primal sighed. "It won't take them long to spot us. Thanks for the heads up." Ending the communication, he turned to shout at the others. "Rattrap, Rhinox! We may have company shortly."

_"Man, how's he always know exactly what we wanna hear?"_

"Shut up, Rattrap."

The spy made a rude gesture at him from atop the tower. Primal turned his back on him, scanning the sky for new arrivals. There was plenty of light now to see them by, and more every minute. He nearly jumped when Dinobot materialized beside him.

"Now's not a great time to sneak up on people," he informed the raptor testily.

Dinobot dipped his head slightly to one side, a rare sign of contrition. "Perhaps you should tell that to Megatron, then. He's approaching from the south, trying to be stealthy, mostly failing. At least two others are with him."

Optimus was jolted. _Why didn't Airazor warn us? She must have seen them leave, unless... unless they were already on their way when she started watching the base_. "They had to've been spying on us," he said, shaking his head in dismay. So much for getting a head start. "Did they see you?"

"I do not know. I tried not to make myself conspicuous, but..." Dinobot gestured at the open expanse around them. If they could see the Predacons, the Predacons could see them. Optimus nodded.

"Alright people, we've got inbound hostiles! Looks like the neighbors are coming over to play. Cheetor, tell Airazor to get up here double-time. And keep trying to reach Tigatron. Rattrap, any luck yet?"

_"Thought I picked up somethin', but it's weak. I'll keep scannin'."_

"Better have a weapon ready, too." Primal looked at Dinobot, who met and matched his expression exactly. More waiting. At this point a battle was almost welcome, just for a chance to take action.

- - - - -

The signal was clearer now, and the pod was able to decipher its instructions. Unfortunately, it had already dropped too low to maintain orbit and was now committed to landing. Following part of the command, it tried to broadcast the instructions to its siblings still floating around the planet, but the superheated plasma streaming past it blacked out all communications. So it obeyed the last part of its orders, fixated on the source of the transmission where it had last been picked up, and diverted its remaining fuel to slowing its descent.

- - - - -

Terrorsaur attacked first, hurtling from the sky with a piercing scream that was intended to draw attention more than to intimidate. Remembering previous mistakes, Primal was not caught off-guard by the other Predacons who began their assault at the same time.

Megatron and Scorponok had found a small bit of cover, a barely adequate ridge just within firing range, and launched their opening salvos. Optimus and Dinobot returned fire, while Rattrap diverted Terrorsaur's swooping attack. The flier pulled up just in time to avoid getting his wings ventilated by the master marksman, but immediately circled around for another, more cautious pass.

_They don't seem too confident_, Primal noted. But he didn't let his guard down. These were Predacons, and he was expecting tricks and turns.

He concentrated on shooting down Scorponok's missiles while Dinobot parried Megatron's beams. As preoccupied as he was, he had no chance to check the sky. A scorching blast grazed his side, and Inferno's mad yell was answered by the thundering rattle of Rhinox's chain guns. Primal staggered but didn't lose his footing. The air was thick with smoke and burning dust, ozone from plasma discharge and the smell of hot metal from detonated missiles. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of weapons firing. As with all firefights, chaos reigned; there was no time to think, only act and react.

Having done all the thinking he wanted over the last week, Primal almost relished the change.

Soon enough, Megatron got impatient with shooting at them from a distance. He and Scorponok began to approach under cover of a barrage of plasma and missile fire. In the open, they were more vulnerable and forced to be on the defensive just as much as the Maximals were. Optimus could feel battle lust rising as he readied himself for melee combat, the urge to rip enemy metal apart overriding his usual pacifism. He could only imagine what Dinobot must be feeling. _This is it. Whatever happens, do not let them pass_.

When the Predacons closed within a scant ten yards, Optimus charged to meet them. He was so at one with his beastmode by now that even in robot form, there was something of the enraged silverback in his movements. A deep roar, part Maximal and part mammal, blasted out of his vocalizer and vibrated his chest and throat almost painfully. A blast from Megatron's cannon clipped his arm just before he hit the Predacon leader full-on, driving a sword into Megatron's hip.

If not for the blast, the sword might have gone in far enough to damage important components or even sever the motor cables to Megatron's leg, but the injury to his arm reduced the force of Optimus's swing. Even so it imbedded firmly in metal and the Predacon commander staggered. Optimus sent him reeling back even further by clubbing him across the face with the barrel of his rifle. An angry raptor screech and the sounds of crumpling metal informed the small part of his mind still aware of such things that Dinobot was dealing with Scorponok.

Megatron recovered quickly, and Optimus barely had time to yank his sword clear when the tyrannosaur head swept toward him and dealt a ringing blow. His sensors crackled warningly, vision dimming to gray for a second. He stumbled back and Megatron's foot crashed into his abdomen, sending him sprawling. He knew the Predacon would be on him any second and got his wits together just in time to roll, avoiding the tail section as it buried itself in the dirt where his Spark would have been.

Primal had a split second to glance over at Dinobot (who'd already lopped off one of Scorponok's claws with his sword) while Megatron pulled himself free. Over the warrior's shoulder he caught a glimpse of something -- high in the sky, not one of the Predacons, possibly a meteorite but quite large --

Realization struck within a second of seeing it, and Primal let out an involuntary shout. His long-range scanners clearly showed a falling stasis pod. It was heading in their direction, falling fast, but didn't appear damaged -- it wasn't crashing! It was answering their call!

The sight of the pod nearly got Optimus killed. He temporarily forgot about Megatron, and only remembered him when the tyrant let out a furious yell as he lunged for Primal's midsection. He spun just in time to parry the tyrannosaur head away from his face. Sparks shot from exposed wires in his damaged arm as he strained against the Predacon's brute strength. _The pod!_ he thought wildly. _I have to get to the pod, before_ --

Suddenly Megatron saw it too. His optics widened and he shoved Optimus away, stepping back. "It worked!" His tone struck a balance between astonished admiration and loathing. "You actually succeeded!"

Panting heavily, Optimus felt his mouth twitch and couldn't resist gloating. "I should thank you, really. Brilliant idea, we might've never thought of it on our own."

The Predacon leader visibly seethed, but he wasn't out of the game yet. "For all the good it will do you, Maximal. Try to stop us from claiming the pod as our own!"

"I intend to."

Optimus fired up his jets and shot away from Megatron, aiming to intercept the pod. The Predacon raised his arm-cannon to blast Primal down, but was knocked sprawling into the dirt by a heavy weight slamming into his side. Dinobot's voice hissed close to his audio. "Let him go. We have a score to settle, you and I."

_For Primus' sake, Scorponok, couldn't you have kept him occupied just a bit longer?_

- - - - -

The pod was decelerating. Primal shot past the transmission tower in pursuit, briefly noting as he did so that the Maximals were holding their own, if just barely. Abruptly Terrorsaur and Waspinator broke away from the fighting and peeled off in Optimus's direction.

_I'm not losing another one of mine to your kind_, he thought grimly_. Especially not after going through all this._

Primal spun to face them as Terrorsaur fired a couple of shots, returning some of his own. Both sides missed, the Predacons taking evasive maneuvers. Optimus maintained his position, hovering while daring them to come closer. _Fly past me and I'll shoot you both out of the sky. You'll have to take me on first_.

They hesitated briefly, circling, allowing him time to check the pod's position and do a quick calculation of its trajectory. At this rate it would impact in less than a minute. It was going to miss the plateau, but should land reasonably close, within a couple of miles. The estimated landing coordinates lay to the east, near the _Axalon_ and...

Optimus groaned. _Primus, please, don't be that cruel._

The pod hit the river, dead center. Spray, steam and churned-up mud hid it from view for a moment, then the blackened shape bobbed up in the rapids, racing toward the waterfall.

_SLAG!_ was Primal's only thought as he dove. Even the Predacons were taken by surprise. They transformed, abandoning weapons capabilities for speed as they plunged after Optimus, desperate to beat him to the prize.

The Maximal stasis pod, its protoform passenger still blissfully unaware of surrounding events, crested the waterfall and dropped into the mist-filled gully with three flying robots in frantic pursuit.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

YES, I FORGOT TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS, HENCE THE RE-POST. PLEASE FORGIVE. HERE ARE THE REPLIES.

**akisawana**: Her hiding place is just that good. Also, he didn't think to look over the cliff. Nobody ever does.

Rattrap shouldn't be shooting? He's the best marksman they've got. Cheetor can't hit slag, that's why he gets to sit back at the base this time.

Primal likes hopeless causes. Convincing Dinobot to believe in the Maximal Way even somewhat, is one of them. The worst part is that the Maximal Way, as taught and practiced by Optimus, is pretty cool. Too bad not everyone with a Maximal insignia acts like he does.

**andalitebandit-6**: Rattrap refused to wait another five or ten chapters to just up and say it, as dramatics demanded. I think he had a bad feeling about the next morning and wanted Dinobot to be honest with him before everything went to slag again.

Blackarachnia's not a whore, just a very smart femme-bot. Can't argue with her methods as long as they keep working. ;)

**OrianPrime92**: That's part of the story too. Keep reading.

**Sneer**: Well, you guessed who the dream-hands belong to. First person besides my beta to do that, I think. The meaning behind it is... complicated. If I do my job right, it'll be explained later.

**LAXgirl**: Dinobot never stopped being a Predacon, so Rhinox never stopped thinking of him as one. There's another reason, but I ain't telling yet.


	18. Everything's Better With Dinosaurs

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 18)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: VIOLENCE WARNING this chapter. Seriously. I know they're robots, but it's pretty graphic. (Considering who's involved, that's not too surprising.) Also, Megatron talks too much, the bastard.

- - - - -

_The arena was packed, the lights dim, the resolution on the screen poor. The floor underfoot was sticky with pools of oil and spent energon, and the din of the crowd nearly drowned out the roars of the combatants. It was, Megatron reflected, a rather poor excuse for entertainment. He had been to many such establishments, and found few of them particularly impressive._

_But he wasn't here to be entertained, anyhow._

_He muscled his way through the crowd, taking advantage of his comparative size and the intimidation factor of the large cannon strapped to his arm. Any mech that wouldn't give way was simply flung aside. There was much growling and swearing, but nobody cared to make an issue of it. Most spectators in a Pitfight were there to watch other mechs get ripped apart, not to risk it themselves. Megatron reached the center ring unchallenged._

_Then he nearly had to jump back as a monster of a mech crashed to the floor in front of him. The fighter was leaking fluids from a dozen deep injuries, his jaw half-severed, wires and cabling exposed. A large sword jutted from his shoulder._

_The victor let out an animalistic roar, then strode forward to make the kill. His face and arms were splashed with enemy fuel. He wasn't quite as tall as Megatron -- almost a head shorter, in fact -- but he carried himself in a manner few other Predacons could match. Red optics met Megatron's oh-so-briefly, then fixed on the defeated opponent, ignoring the rest of the crowd entirely. Long, agile hands wrapped around the handle of the sword and wrenched it free. The wounded mech groaned loudly but gave no other response._

_He wouldn't have to suffer for much longer._

_The warrior raised his blade, positioning it over his opponent's Core, steadying it with both hands. A crackle of energy traveled visibly down the handle as the blade began to spin, each segment rotating counter to its neighbors at a dizzying speed. All around Megatron the crowd grew tense, waiting._

_Without hesitation or error the warrior drove his sword down, piercing the mech's chest. There was a shower of sparks and a scream of metal on metal as the blade rapidly disappeared. The fallen fighter shuddered violently, almost bucking off the floor, then abruptly fell still. After the briefest of pauses, cheers went up from the crowd. An announcer's voice boomed something unintelligible over the shouts, unnecessarily announcing the winner._

_Megatron never took his optics off the victorious fighter. The sword was buried almost to the hilt, and its owner had to brace both feet on the body to pull it free. Gleaming metal shed drops of energon as it slid from the wound. Several mechs standing nearby offered cleaning rags to the warrior, but Megatron was closest. The fighter took his without a word of thanks or even glancing up to acknowledge him, and began calmly wiping the blade._

_It was plain that he took better care of his weapon than of himself. His armor was pitted, dented and scratched from what must have been decades of hard wear, and he sported at least three or four fresh wounds that he wasn't tending at all. He ignored the corpse of his fallen enemy, which was now being dragged into the crowd for dismantling. Such was the way of Cybertron's steel jungle -- when a mech no longer had need of his body, the parts and materials went to those who did. Life was hard in this sector, and there were always many in need._

_Satisfied at last with the condition of his blade, the fighter slid it into a sheath on his back. Megatron held out his hand to retrieve the cloth which was now stained with mech fluid. After a brief hesitation, the warrior handed it over._

_As their hands made contact, Megatron locked and held the other's gaze with his own, taking a step forward into his personal domain. The warrior visibly tensed, but didn't back down or break the stare. He glared back challengingly. "Was there something you wanted?" His voice was a harsh snarl, as unfriendly a sound in civil conversation as it was in combat._

_"A few moments of your time, when you're through here. I have a proposition for you." Megatron offered his most disarming smile, but the warrior seemed unconvinced._

_"I'm not seeking employment." He started to turn away, but Megatron made the bold move of grabbing his arm. Instantly the warrior's hand went to his sword handle, but he didn't draw just yet._

_"What are you seeking, then?" Megatron insisted. "A warrior such as yourself in this unglorious place must be a warrior without purpose. A tragic waste. I could use your skill, as could Cybertron." He saw hesitant interest, and released the warrior's arm, no longer needing it to hold him. "When you've had your fill of blood sport, come and find me outside. I will outline my proposal if you wish to hear. Otherwise, if you're content with performing nightly for this jeering crowd of fools, simply decline and I will walk away."_

_There was no immediate answer. He hadn't expected one. To give a sense of urgency, he started to turn away, and smiled inwardly in triumph when a clawed hand landed -- lightly, almost tentatively, as though unaccustomed to initiating such contact -- on his shoulder._

_"I have three more fights ahead of me tonight. If you are still waiting when the last opponent falls, I will listen to your offer. Perhaps accept it. Perhaps not. We will see."_

_"Very well." As the hand drew swiftly away, Megatron rejoined the crowd, allowing the triumph to show on his face at last._

_**You're mine, warrior.**_

- - - - -

Decades after their first meeting, and thousands of years before either of them was even created, Megatron and Dinobot faced each other again. "This is getting repetitious," Megatron told his former lieutenant in tones of annoyance, without letting down his guard -- Dinobot had murder in his optics and he could be damn quick when he wanted to. Their first round had left Megatron half-blind with a cracked optic and missing some teeth from his tyrannosaur-head arm, most of which were buried in Dinobot's left shoulder. Now they were circling, too close for Megatron to use his cannon effectively. Dinobot could still use his optic beams at this range, but Megatron knew he would prefer to take down his long-hated foe in close, personal combat. _He'd be so much harder to defeat if he wasn't so predictable_.

"I suppose I should be flattered that you're devoting all your attention to me, instead of helping your friends defend that tower they worked so hard to build," the tyrant said mockingly, playing his first card. It was always possible to play Dinobot, if one knew him well enough. Just a matter of which tactic would work this time.

Dinobot sneered in response. "Once _you_ are destroyed, your followers can be dealt with quickly enough. Stop stalling and fight!" He lunged, thrusting his sword at Megatron's abdomen. The tyrant parried with his heavy tail-arm, falling back a step as his damaged hip protested the shift in weight.

"Ngh... Anxious for blood as ever." His right arm struck, siezing Dinobot's shield in its jaws and wrenching it away. He made a quick grab for the warrior's now-unprotected torso, but Dinobot jumped back, his swordtip leaving a shallow slash on the side of the tyrannosaur's muzzle.

Back to circling. Megatron kept talking, searching for a chink in the warrior's emotional armor or, better yet, a trigger that would send him into careless rage. "Clearly the Maximals aren't letting you satisfy your thirst for combat. You never should have left me, Dinobot. I _always_ gave you what you needed."

Ah-ha! Dinobot twitched, almost went for it before he caught himself. Megatron smirked at his enraged expression.

"You betrayed me _first_," the raptor gritted out through clenched teeth. His sword spun, carving patterns into the air between them, symbolically slicing Megatron's arguments to bits.

"Don't be so dramatic. It was your foolish honor that led you to challenge me, and look where it got you."

"Look where it got me, indeed! I should _thank_ you, Megatron. I might still be part of your mad scheme if you hadn't driven me out!"

Megatron rushed _him_ this time, catching Dinobot just slightly off-guard. There was a flurry of strikes and parries as the raptor fended him off with sword alone, holding his own quite well even without a shield. Eventually, however, Megatron managed to catch Dinobot's left arm in his tyrannosaur jaws. His heavy tail-arm blocked Dinobot's blade for an instant, bringing them to a grapple.

"You will regret it soon enough, once I have Cybertron under my heel and your Maximal friends reduced to scrap! You may have lost sight of our goals, Dinobot, but I have not!"

"You couldn't even land on the right _planet!_" Dinobot spat in his face. He pressed with all his strength, bearing down on Megatron's left arm, and felt the teeth in his own forearm sink deeper in response. Mech fluid began to drip into the grass.

"A minor inconvenience," the tyrant sneered. "We have a world full of energon and only a handful of untrained Maximals to stop us from taking it! If _you_ hadn't gone and joined them, you short-sighted ingrate, this war would be over by now!"

Dinobot snarled, raised his sword, and brought it smashing down on Megatron's upraised arm. Again and again he struck until the tough pseudoflesh began to split, revealing gleaming circuitry. Megatron braced himself against the rain of blows without letting go of Dinobot's arm. Finally the sword embedded itself point-first in the tyrannosaur-tail shield, piercing clean through. Before Dinobot could pull it free, Megatron lashed out with his tail-arm, backhanding the warrior fiercely. Both Dinobot's sword and the battered tail segment went sailing out of reach.

With his opponent disarmed, Megatron went for the optics. His fist crashed into Dinobot's face, trying to shatter his lenses before the warrior decided to use his lasers after all. Around the third or fourth punch, Dinobot managed to grab his arm. His left leg swung up in a sharp kick to Megatron's bad hip. The joint finally buckled, dropping the Predacon commander to one knee.

Dinobot leaned over him as the two strained against each other, growling, their faces inches apart. Small energon discharges were beginning to dance like static over the combatants' armor. Neither seemed to care. Megatron was trying to reach for Dinobot's throat, Dinobot barely holding him at bay while knifelike teeth ground into his forearm. The air around the mechs shimmered with heat.

"I will end the war today," hissed the warrior through clenched teeth. His optics began to glow green.

Then a scream faintly pierced his audios. It came from the direction of the tower, somehow penetrating the symphony of gunfire and explosions. Dinobot's head jerked as if tugged by a magnet.

_Vermin!_ he thought chaotically. _For Primus' sake, not again--_

The split second distraction was all that was needed. Megatron released Dinobot's badly-gnawed and now nearly useless arm and clamped his teeth on the warrior's face instead. Gripping him firmly, he lurched to his feet, ignoring Dinobot's good hand clawing at the armor of his chest and face.

"That would be Tarantulas," the tyrant remarked. "His timing couldn't be better. Nor could the results be more pleasing, I think." He squeezed, and heard a _crack_ as a tooth punctured Dinobot's left optic. The roar of rage and pain that followed was muffled by the jaws imprisoning his head. "I had a hunch, yess. So gratifying of you to prove me right."

He swept his arm sideways, flinging the warrior to the ground. Dinobot hunched up on his knees and his one good hand, trying to rise. A kick knocked him sprawling and sent a sharp twinge of pain through Megatron's injured hip, which he considered a small price to pay for such satisfaction.

"What is it I've always told you, Dinobot? Any opponent can be defeated if you know his weakness." Megatron knelt and grabbed the warrior by the throat. "I know all of yours. Pride, predictability, stubborn adherence to that crippling code of honor..." He smiled at the hate he read in the one functioning optic. "And it seems I've found a new one. Oh, yesss."

Dinobot launched himself with a scream of rage. Megatron didn't quite jerk back fast enough, and felt teeth sink into his throat. For an instant he almost panicked. He clamped his fangs on Dinobot's head again, trying to pull him off while the warrior clung to him one-handed, claws digging into his back. He finally wrenched free, but not before those savage teeth tore open a fuel line. Mech fluid splattered them both as they reeled away from each other, Megatron falling onto his back, Dinobot staggering and going down on one knee.

Coughing, the warlord pushed himself upright. He saw Dinobot rise and shake himself, tensed to charge again. He lifted his right arm, jaws popping wide open.

"I _don't_ think so." He fired.

The warrior dropped, his shoulder smoking. Megatron waited a moment, ready to fire again if need be. When Dinobot didn't get back up, the tyrant got to his feet -- not without difficulty -- and limped slowly towards him.

The raptor lay on his back, exposed circuitry crackling where the skin and armor plating of his right shoulder had been. He tried to sit up as Megatron approached, but he could no longer move his right arm at all, while the left was a mangled mess below the elbow. Mechblood still dripped from his fangs, bared in a snarl at his former commander. "Finish it!" he snapped, his voice deep and harsh. "Finish it, or so help me, I will not rest until I melt down the last scrap of your lifeless frame!" There was nothing theatrical in his speech now -- the words were screamed with the conviction of a blood oath.

Megatron gazed down at him, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Interesting. Once you would have laid down your life for me. Now you would rip out my Spark with your teeth if you could." He reached up to rub at his throat, coughing a little as the severed conduit continued to bleed. Thank Primus it wasn't a vital one. "Quite fascinating, how love can turn so quickly to hate... and vice versa. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I _never_ lov--" And there Dinobot stopped, his optics widening. The full meaning of Megatron's words became apparent.

_He knows. Even I wasn't sure, but he is. He knows._

"_Tsk, tsk_. You couldn't hide the truth to save your life, Dinobot. A less subtle creature I've never met. It's obvious to any functioning pair of optics when you've decided on something." He made a face. "Though the reasons _why_ are a bit... harder to fathom."

He turned his back on the seething raptor, searching for something. "For whatever reason, you've claimed something as your own. A new challenge. A new target. A new weakness... Ah-ha." He found the object he sought, and stooped, carefully, to pick it up off the grass. "I'm almost disappointed in you, really. But I suppose I should thank you for making things so easy."

Megatron returned to his fallen opponent, holding Dinobot's sword in his left hand. Casually he poised it over the warrior's Spark chamber. "Hmm... tempting. I could end this now... but, I don't think I'm through with you just yet. Another time, when we can both savor the moment. I have more pressing concerns."

He started to turn away again, then turned back. "Of course, I wouldn't want you to interfere any further, so..." He raised the sword high and slammed it down point-first into Dinobot's abdomen. The warrior bit off a shriek as the cold steel went through his body. Megatron bore down until only the hilt protruded, the blade buried deep in soil, pinning Dinobot firmly where he'd fallen.

"That's for Inferno," the Predacon commander informed him.

Dinobot immediately began writhing, trying to rip the sword out of the ground. As tempting as it was to watch him lie there and struggle, Megatron really did have other business at hand. The Maximals' tower was still standing, which meant that his minions weren't having much luck. _Typical. If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself_.

"Don't worry," he told the raptor, "I'll make sure you don't miss the fireworks." He began limping his way toward the tower, leaving the warrior pinned by his own weapon, mocking words swirling in his processor.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**.machina**: Thanks. Unfortunately, the way this site is set up, it's not worth reposting the whole chapter right now just to correct one spelling error. I guess I could turn spellcheck back on, but it mostly just ticks me off, especially when writing Transformers. Meh.

**andalitebandit-6**: Optimus totally adopted Cheetor. :P Maybe not in a legal sense, but that's pretty much the relationship they've got. (Pod person? I like that. How did I not think of it?)

**LAXgirl**: Dinobot doesn't have to do anything, really. Rhinox not trusting him is his own problem. He'll get over it or he won't. Dinobot's done plenty already. (Yes, I'm a question/feedback whore, did you notice? :P)

**Sneer**: (Flings a banana peel at you) Here's a hint. It's all you get. :P


	19. Could Have Gone Better

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 19)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Behold, I bring you a river as a plot device. The writers of the show itself could not be more shameless. Also, this chapter contains monkeys!

- - - - -

The mist at the base of the waterfall was too thick for optic sensors to penetrate. Optimus pulled up and hovered, waiting for the current to bring the pod out into sight again. Seizing the opportunity, Terrorsaur transformed and fired a missile at him.

Primal barely swerved in time, feeling hot air graze his shoulder, and spun around to deploy his own launchers. The Predacons scattered in opposite directions, leaving him to decide which to aim for. He chose Terrorsaur. The missile skipped along the pteranodon's back without exploding, almost knocking him out of the sky. Primal had a brief moment of satisfaction before a retaliatory shot burst against his back, causing his shields to flicker. Waspinator was surprisingly quick on the uptake today.

While all of this was going on, the pod resurfaced and meandered downstream, swiftly gathering momentum. Terrorsaur spotted it while righting himself and abandoned the fight, taking off after the prize. Waspinator broke off to follow him, and Primal pursued.

The chase took them several miles from the main battle, following the course of the river. Strong currents had pulled the pod into the center of the flow and it was moving along quite rapidly, taking the curves as smoothly as if someone was steering it. Startled birds burst from the foliage of the riverside as the three robots shot past. Optimus and the Predacons wove intercepting patterns, playing midair chicken while each tried to draw closer to the pod than the others, swooping low above the water.

Suddenly Terrorsaur climbed, rising above Optimus and Waspinator as they skimmed along just over the current. He flipped out his shoulder-mounted missiles once more and took aim at the Maximal. This time his shot was perfect. Optimus barely had time to hear the attack streaking towards him before it hit, slamming him facefirst into the water. The air warrior whooped in victory.

Unfortunately the surprise attack also startled Waspinator, who pulled up sharply. Terrorsaur, whose mind was more on gloating than on flying, failed to notice. The wasp smacked into him, sending him pinwheeling into the riverside foliage with a shrill and indignant _squawk!_

By the time the pteranodon disentangled himself from the thick growth and Waspinator managed to get his head together, they'd lost sight of the pod. Terrorsaur called his partner ten kinds of idiot, but wasted no time in transforming to beastmode and taking up the chase again.

_Can't be too hard_, he reasoned. _We'll just follow the river until it turns up again_.

Less than a mile ahead, the river branched in two. Terrorsaur pulled up and swore as soon as he saw it. "Is _nothing_ ever easy?"

Hovering beside him, Waspinator shook his head mournfully. "What now?"

Terrorsaur looked cautiously around. There was no sign of Optimus Prime since they'd dunked him. That was at least one piece of news in their favor. "We'll have to split up," he said. "You go left, I'll go right, got it?"

"Why Wazzpinator have to go left? Izz zomething bad on the left?"

It took considerable restraint on his partner's part not to shoot a missile at _him_. "Fine, take the right one. I don't _care_. We'd better find the slagging thing, and fast!"

Seeming to accept this arrangement, Waspinator nodded and sped off. Terrorsaur watched him for just a moment to make sure he stayed focused, then banked and followed the swifter-flowing current running downhill to the left.

- - - - -

At the bottom of the slope, the river leveled out onto a wet plain, flanked by thick groves of trees. Here the current slackened, in several places forming shallow pools where the water lay almost still. Along the muddy fringes of these pools grew thick reeds, while branches and other detritus accumulated from upstream -- the final resting place for much of what flowed along the river.

A troop of vervet monkeys was foraging peacefully in the grass a few yards from shore when the strange object drifted into the shallows and grounded in the mud. A sentinel spotted it, stood up on his hind legs and grunted to get the others' attention.

Most animals on prehistoric Earth would have ignored such an artificial object as long as it posed no threat. The monkeys -- intelligent, opportunistic, and ever-alert to their environment -- approached it cautiously, the mothers with young infants hanging back, adult males and juveniles up front. One spotted his own reflection in the alloy and jumped, making a surprised face. Others stretched out an arm to paw at the shiny surface or sniffed it, even licking at the strange metal. The alienness of the structure, the lights blinking along its sides and the faint hum from machinery within made the pod much more interesting and attractive than most inanimate objects they encountered daily. One brave juvenile even leaped on top of it and started hopping up and down on all fours.

Then the scanner activated.

The monkeys scattered as the antenna unfolded, leaping back up the bank with wild barks and yelps of alarm. At a safe distance they stopped and turned to look back, crouching low to the grass, mothers clutching their infants close. The scanning beams appeared and swept in a slow semicircle, passing over the group. A few of the monkeys twitched at the faint tingling sensation. Then it was gone.

Blinking, the small primates started to gather their wits back together. Then the lid of the pod cracked open with a hiss of pressurized air, and they fled again, this time disappearing into the trees.

Terrorsaur arrived on the scene about two minutes later, alerted by the noise. He'd never heard monkeys making such a racket before. Once he spotted the pod, he had a good idea why. He circled once, just to make sure no Maximal ambushes were waiting for him, then transformed and dropped into the clearing.

As soon as his shadow passed over them, the damn hairballs started up again. With loud _rrraup!_ sounds, they retreated into the thick brush where the giant scary "bird" couldn't get to them. Terrorsaur fired a couple of shots in their general direction to shut them up, before stooping over the pod.

It opened easily. Much too easily.

Terrorsaur took one look inside and started swearing.

A missile slammed into his shoulder, throwing him away from the pod. He looked up from the grass to see Primal materializing out of the river like a vengeful spirit, dripping muddy water and trailing weeds, his optics blazing. "You... will not harm... the protoform!"

_Give me a break_. "Scrap the dramatics, you moron. We're both too late!"

Optimus paused, reluctant to turn away from the Predacon. "If this is a trick, Terrorsaur--"

"See for yourself, the slagging thing is empty!"

Primal looked, startled. Terrorsaur took the opportunity to throw himself in the air. He only had a split second before Optimus reacted, raising his pistol. The Predacon was just marginally faster. Primal's first shot missed, and he didn't get the chance for a second as the weapon was blasted out of his hand.

For a second they stared each other down. Primal's jetpack had been disabled when he was shot down, so he couldn't very well pursue the flier into the air. They were both out of missiles. Terrorsaur considered flying away; the chance to come back from a mission almost unscathed for once was a very appealing one. On the other hand, Optimus made a very tempting target. And Megatron was going to be pissed about the protoform escaping, but he would possibly be less so if Terrorsaur managed to deal considerable damage to the enemy leader--

Unfortunately for him, before this train of thought could go any further, Terrorsaur was shot again.

He crashed to the ground near Optimus's feet, thoroughly confused. _Where in the PIT did that come from?_

A piercing falcon screech answered the question. "Optimus! Looks like I got here just in time."

Terrorsaur _hated_ that damn bird.

Airazor landed next to him, weapon trained on his head. "I really think you want to be somewhere else," she said. "We've got bigger things to worry about than scavengers."

He tried to sneer at her, but faltered in the face of a burning desire not to get shot again. Terrorsaur had always believed in discretion as the better part of valor. Cautiously he stood, the barrel of the pistol almost poking him between the optics, and backed away. To save a little face he tossed out, "Not that it matters anyway. You just wasted your time on a wild pod chase, and Megatron's probably destroyed your tower already. Better go check to make sure he hasn't singed your pretty kitty cat while he was at it, Primal--"

He leaped into the air with a squawk as Optimus lunged at him. Airazor caught her commander's shoulder. "Let him go," she said. "We really do have problems."

"How bad?" Primal asked, watching Terrorsaur transform and flap unsteadily away. _Damn. I was hoping he'd have to walk home too_.

"Cheetor called me. He lost communication with the others. He said he was going to check it out, but whatever he finds, I doubt it'll be good news."

The familiar sinking feeling wove its way through Primal's circuits. "I have to get back there," he said. "Stay here and search for the protoform. Get Tigatron's help if you can reach him. If we manage to salvage even one crew member, this won't have been for nothing."

- - - - -

The battlefield was a site of disaster. Primal could see the smoke long before anything else. His beastmode wasn't made for running, but he forced it over the rough terrain at the best speed he could manage. A real gorilla would be dead from exhaustion by now. As it was, he was out of breath and the sun beating down on his black fur made his circuits feel like they were boiling. Dread of what he might find when he reached the tower drove him on.

The first person he saw was Rhinox, standing dejectedly in beastmode, staring at the remains of what they had worked so hard to build. It obviously hadn't exploded as spectacularly as the Predacon transmission tower had, but it was certainly damaged _enough_. They'd never be able to salvage the vital components for another attempt, though Primal knew that Rhinox would try. He always tried.

The engineer's ears were drooping. One twitched as he heard his commander approach, but he didn't turn. "We failed," he said simply.

Optimus stood up beside him, chest heaving, and looked over the wreckage. "How… how did they do this? What happened after I left?"

"We were holding them off pretty well, at first. It was just Inferno and Tarantulas, and I managed to take Inferno down myself. I took a couple of hits, but they weren't enough to worry about." He sighed heavily. "I don't know where Blackarachnia came from. By the time Rattrap yelled a warning, it was too late -- she had me pumped full of cyber-venom. After that, I was just a spectator.

"I didn't see everything, but I heard Rattrap scream. It sounded like they were smelting him alive. I couldn't do anything -- I couldn't even _move_." He lowered his head. "Then I saw Megatron."

Optimus jerked. "Megatron? He was still standing?" _That means Dinobot lost._

"Yeah, he looked pretty slagged up, but he was still armed. All it took was one missile. He knew exactly where to hit it."

Primal rested a hand on the engineer's armored shoulder. "What about Rattrap?"

"He'd be deactivated if it weren't for Cheetor. The kid got here just in time -- nobody else would've been fast enough. He grabbed Rattrap and jumped clear of the tower just before it collapsed. Then he transformed, started firing at the Predacons. I don't think he hit any of them, but they didn't stick around to give him the chance."

The commander was momentarily stunned. "Cheetor did all that?"

Rhinox turned now, fixing him with one beady eye. "Yeah. We both owe him our lives. Megatron might've just decided to finish me off while he was at it, too. But most of his mechs were down, and he didn't seem to have much fight left in him. Besides… he'd done what he was here to do."

The mention of Megatron brought one concern to the front of Primal's processor. "And Dinobot? What happened to him?"

Rhinox hesitated, and that cold dread wound itself once more around Primal's Spark. "We didn't have much time to worry about him at first. Once the venom wore off enough that I could move, we retreated to the Axalon. We put Rattrap in CR, and I probably should've gone in myself, but Cheetor said he was going to look for Dinobot, so I stayed up to wait. He found him almost right away, and it's a good thing he did. Megatron left him alive, but…" He shook his head.

"How bad?" Optimus knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"He was pinned to the ground. With his own sword. Megatron must have wanted us to find him like that -- I can't think of any other reason he didn't just kill him."

Leathery hands clenched into fists so tightly that they creaked. It was a moment before Primal could speak. "Is… he going to be alright?"

"I think so. We got him into CR just in time. He lost a lot of mech fluid, took some heavy energon damage and was in a serious state of shock, not to mention the mechanical parts that had to be repaired. But we both know he's been through worse. A few days should see him back on his feet." There was a moment's pause. "I really wish he'd been unconscious when we found him, though. Primus only knows what'll be going through his mind when he wakes up."

Optimus closed his eyes.

"What about the pod?" Rhinox asked him quietly. "Did any good come of this at all?"

"I found the pod, but I was too late. Terrorsaur reached it first. He said it was empty when he found it, though. I hope that's true, and we might still be able to recover the Maximal protoform if it hasn't been reprogrammed. I've got Airazor searching the area now."

"Maybe we'll be lucky."

"Maybe. Did any other pods fall?"

Rhinox just shook his head.

They both stood for a while in silence, taking in the smell of defeat, marginally comforted by each other's presence and by the knowledge that at least they were all still alive. _This is depressingly predictable, isn't it?_ Optimus found himself thinking. _We hit them, they hit back, we hit them back. Neither side ever seems to gain advantage, and the small victories are almost never worth the cost. Is war always this futile, or are we doing something wrong? Have we been thrown together on this planet by forces beyond our control just so we can entertain them with our struggles?_

"Was Rattrap badly hurt, by the way?" He almost didn't hear himself ask the question.

"Huh-- No. Actually, he should be fine in a couple of hours. Tarantulas hit him with a neurological compound. I found the dart, definitely his work. It's designed to burn out sensory systems -- causes excruciating pain, at least until the mech loses consciousness, but it doesn't do any real damage. He might feel like slag for a few days, though."

Optimus nodded. "I'll take him off the duty roster for a while then, if we're not too busy. I'm sure he'd appreciate the break." Something nagged at his processor. "Seems like a strange weapon to use in a battle, doesn't it?"

"It is. I've seen this technology before, but not in this setting. I'm not sure why Tarantulas was carrying it around, though I guess nothing about him should really surprise me anymore. What really puzzles me is that he'd use that on him instead of just shooting him. They didn't try to kill him, but they didn't try to take him alive either. It's like they just wanted to make him scream." Rhinox snorted in anger and frustration. "What was the point in that?"

Optimus watched the smoke curl from the wreckage, uneasy at the number of things that didn't make sense. "What, indeed…"

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

WHAAAAAAAT? NO DINOBOT OR RATTRAP THIS CHAPTER? AFTER WE WAITED SO LONG? THING, YOU BITCH! I WANT MY MONEY BACK! …Okay, some of you must be thinking it, so I'm saying it. Yes, I'm sorry for the wait. Yes, you'll see more of Rattrap and Dinobot soon. I'm hoping the next chapter won't take nearly so long, and it'll be Rattrap-centric, hopefully with plenty of comfort, if my muses cooperate. Your patience will be rewarded… eventually. Commence the throwing of tomatoes now if you wish.

ON TO REVIEWS. (Man, there were a lot of you this time.)

**OrianPrime92**: Good guesses. You're sort of right on all counts. Not necessarily in the way you think, though.

**Ikumak**: I think that comment was meant to be more mocking than anything, but Inferno is Megatron's favorite at the moment, so you never know. I see it as being like breaking one of Megatron's toys -- even if he doesn't care about them much, he's not going to let you get away with it. And if it's a favorite toy, the retribution is worse.

**Eerie Iri**: I… really can't see that happening. O_O Congratulations, you've stumped me. I can't even imagine it long enough to consider Dinobot's reaction. Megatron finds the vermin repulsive. (I'm guessing Dinobot would just up and kill Megatron, though. Not that he needs another reason to.)

**AH36**: I'm starting to wish I'd just gone and written porn. This plot is giving me fits. Glad you're enjoying it, though.

**Panur**: Yeah, we learn a lot more about him. More about Dinobot too. Hell, most of the characters have got some background exposition planned here at some point.

**Sneer**: You'll see. Very shortly. (Does the hint make more sense now?)

**Dragowolf**: Dinobot has all the subtlety of a brick to the face, doesn't he? For a descendant of Decepticons, he doesn't hide things very well.

**missingrache**: Thank YOU for paying me a lovely compliment, and for endorsing my most controversial character portrayal to date. (Quite a few people have said the same about that, actually; it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it.) Yes, Optimus is awesome. Of course, Dinobot had been blasted over the horizon that day and was not feeling his best, but still, most people would've been knocked off that bridge in the first five seconds. No wonder DB respects him.

**Knuckles**: I think I answered most of those questions just in this chapter. I feel accomplished. If you think of more, though, don't hesitate to ask!

I love reviews. I'm sorry I couldn't reply to all of you. You're all awesome people for giving me the time of day, and I wouldn't even be writing this if not for your feedback. ^_^


	20. My Baby's Got A Secret

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 20)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Megatron is really creepy, did I mention that? Also, people are nice to Rattrap in this chapter. I know, I'm shocked.

- - - - -

The next few days were relatively quiet. Apparently the Predacons were content with their victory, or at least too occupied with their own repairs to bother the Maximals any further. This gave Primal's crew some time to pick up the pieces.

Rhinox spent most of his waking hours salvaging the still-usable materials from their demolished tower. "No point letting it all sit out here and rust," he told Optimus. The commander knew he was upset by the destruction of all his hard work and trying to keep himself occupied, so he helped as much as he could. Besides, Rhinox was right -- they couldn't afford to waste any of their resources.

Cheetor had joined with Tigatron and Airazor for wide-range patrols. His actions during the fight had earned him a good deal of back-slapping from the others, and Rattrap, once he was out of CR, had promised the kid a number of favors in return for saving his hide. Alone among the Maximals, the cat seemed to have benefited from the events of the battle: he stood a little straighter, walked a little more purposefully, and there was a new light in his eyes. He was proud to have finally proven himself a valuable member of the crew.

Both factions were still searching for the missing protoform. The Maximals kept a close eye on the area where the pod had landed (Primal had had the pod itself retrieved to prevent the Predacons from seizing the technology), and Megatron's fliers were spotted there more than once. The protoform, however, was not. The area seemed abandoned save for the monkeys, who threw screaming fits whenever robots of either faction appeared within eyeshot. Cheetor came home one evening covered in fruit pulp and worse, having wandered too close to a tree that the troop was taking refuge in. "I had no idea they could throw like that," he said sheepishly to a very amused Primal as the latter helped him clean off.

As for Rattrap, it was hard to be sure just how he was doing. Tarantulas's poison took some time to flush completely from his system, and he complained of weird tingling sensations and servomotor spasms for the first day or so, but otherwise he seemed to have come through unscathed. He busied himself at the monitors without being asked, because he said he was bored and didn't feel up to patrolling yet. Optimus didn't object, knowing that the real reason Rattrap didn't want to leave the base had little to do with his injuries. Several times he'd caught the spy sitting or pacing outside the CR chamber occupied by Dinobot.

Stopping by to check on both of them two days after the fight, Primal tried to draw the unnaturally quiet rodent into conversation. "Are you getting any sleep?" he asked. "You look like you need it."

Too much concern for his well-being tended to make Rattrap suspicious. He must have been preoccupied, because he didn't answer with a flippant remark. "No point. Got too much on my processor. I'll crash when I get tired enough, Boss Monkey. Don't worry about it."

The smaller Maximal's tone made Primal almost want to hug him, but he was pretty sure Rattrap would bite him if he tried. "As long as Dinobot's getting the rest he needs, you should try to do the same," he chided gently. "Sitting here fretting over him isn't doing either of you any good."

Rattrap chuffed. "Least it reminds me he's alive. That's about the only piece o' good news I got to hold onto here." He folded his arms and leaned back against the cold metal side of the chamber. "Let's see, my idea didn't work. We wasted our time, we wasted a lot o' good parts, an' some of us nearly got slagged. Rhinox can't fix up another one o' those transmitters with the resources we got left -- I'm sure he's told you that by now. So we're back to square one, except now Chopperface is in pieces and a protoform's gone missin'. I feel accomplished, I can tell you." He stared at the floor. "Worst part is, I knew it wasn't gonna work. I still kinda hoped I'd be wrong, y'know?"

Optimus placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself."

The spy laughed, briefly and without humor. "Oh, believe me, I don't. Megatron gets all the blame for this one. An' next time I see him, I mean to pay him back with _interest_. But that ain't the point. Point is, it was my plan an' I was stupid enough to hope it'd go off without a hitch. Now it feels like I been kicked in the coolant pump." He looked up at his commander. "How d'_you_ deal with it, anyway? Comin' up with plans, then watchin' 'em fall apart? Askin' mechs to risk their lives an' hopin' you were right about the odds? You do it all the time."

"To be honest…" Primal sighed so deeply it seemed to alter the air pressure in the room. "I wish I could tell you. I'm not even sure if I _am_ dealing with it. Some days I just want to throw this job at someone else and run the other way as fast as I can."

They both cracked a faint smile at the mental image. "Heh, just be sure you don't throw it at _me_. I've had a taste o' your job, Big Banana, an' I wouldn't do it again for a whole planet fulla energon."

Primal's optics crinkled slightly. "But Rattrap, you were a natural! I'm tempted to put you in charge at least one day a week. That way I'd finally get time off."

"Heeyah, you'd get plenty o' time off, 'cause I'd kill ya." Rattrap's fingers formed a tiny imitation pistol firing at Primal's chest.

_Making death threats against his commander. Yep, he's going to be fine_. Optimus didn't quite hide his relief, and Rattrap looked away as though embarrassed, scuffing a foot on the floor. "Speakin' o' which, you better get back to commandin' them minions. Primus knows what trouble they're gettin' into now."

This was Rattrap-speak for, _You did what you came here to do -- now leave before this gets slagging awkward_. Primal took his cue. "Good point. I should try to talk Rhinox into taking a break. I'm getting tired just looking at him. And Rattrap," he warned, "I won't order you to recharge… but if I find you passed out here, I am dragging you to your berth myself. I will weld your door shut if I have to."

With that friendly promise delivered, the commander left him to his vigil. Rattrap made a face at his back that held little to no real malice. He'd never admit it out loud -- okay, maybe under torture -- but it warmed his Spark a little to see the big guy concerned about him. Just a little, mind.

_Now, where was I?_ The spy retrieved a datapad from his hip compartment, where he'd stashed it when he heard the boss's approach. It only took him a moment to find the paragraph where he'd left off. With a dramatic clearing of the throat, he addressed the silent CR chamber.

"It was the last time, she vowed; the last kiss she would let him steal, her last time he would be allowed to set her fuel pump fluttering and her circuits crackling in that wild dance, the very last particle of dignity she would ever surrender to him. One final sip of rarest high-charged energon before setting off on a determined trek into the dry wastes of loneliness…"

- - - - -

_It was nothing like what Dinobot was used to. The slums had been his home for nearly a century. He'd become accustomed to living in a dilapidated box with a ceiling so low that it forced him to stoop, making his way through narrow alleys littered with garbage and the occasional drunk or deactivated mech, being woken in the middle of the night by the sounds of shouting and artillery fire. The room he stood in now was bigger than the entire apartment he had once claimed, and every surface was clean -- cleaner than he'd ever been able to get his own hovel despite his best efforts._

_"Maintenance drones," Megatron had explained during his initial gawking spell. "I don't generally trust servants. So there won't be anyone in here to bother you, no. My security systems will ensure that."_

_It was almost a pity. Dinobot was used to defending his home with sword, tooth and claw. But he was too practical a creature not to accept Megatron's generosity, despite his pride. It made no sense to plot treason in a district where secrets were traded for a few cubes of energon. Megatron was well established, well connected, and had a sterling reputation with his own government -- even the Maximals regarded him as a mech of some standing. No one would think to search for signs of dissent in such a respectable place as this._

_Of course, Dinobot had other, less practical, and more selfish reasons for accepting Megatron's invitation. At last he had privacy, quiet… and space._

_It had been a long time since he'd been able to practice comfortably. There was no room in his apartment for delivering a decent punch, let alone swinging a sword. Workouts on the rooftops of abandoned buildings tended to be interrupted, and they certainly weren't very relaxing when set in such unsavory surroundings. The arena had been his only outlet, the only way to keep his mind and body sharp and ready for battle. Now he looked around the vast space with something like satisfaction. This would suit him perfectly. He dimmed the lights (conveniently voice-activated) to a comfortable level and began._

_At first he went slowly, letting his new environment soak in, reacquainting himself with that elusive state of balance between relaxation and readiness. His body knew the moves, requiring little conscious thought on his part. His mind was free to roam over recent events and begin to make some sense of them, as his problems became imaginary opponents to be grabbed, thrown aside, and struck down. Gradually the pace increased, hands and feet flying, sword sweeping in long flashing arcs as he unsheathed and resheathed it, drawing and striking, dodging and parrying--_

_He became aware of another presence in the room and spun, freezing abruptly in an attack stance, sword raised in one hand, the other thrust in front of him. Megatron's expression was suitably impressed._

_"Have I come at a bad time?" he inquired mildly, his mellifluous tone somewhat smoothing over Dinobot's irritation at the interruption. Somewhat, but not completely._

_"This is your property," he replied stiffly. "You can come and go as you please." He relaxed his stance and returned his sword to the clip on his back._

_Megatron approached with hands spread slightly as if to offer peace. "I didn't wish to disturb you. You seemed rather… absorbed. Continue if you like, I won't interrupt. I would be content merely to watch such a master in action."_

_Caught off-guard and unbalanced by flattery, Dinobot looked away. "It is a solitary exercise," he explained. "Difficult to concentrate on in the presence of others. I will practice another time. Why are you here?"_

_Megatron smiled. Clearly Dinobot's directness didn't bother him -- if anything, he seemed to find it refreshing. "I just came by to see how you were settling into your new surroundings. Quite well, obviously. I also wished to let you know that I will be meeting tonight with a handful of other revolutionaries whose goals are similar to ours. I would like you to attend, if it's not too much trouble. I could use your… unique insight on some of their ideas."_

_Dinobot considered, but only for a moment. Mostly he wanted to give the appearance of deliberating when in truth he knew (or thought) that he didn't really have a choice. Megatron had not been so generous to him out of the goodness of his Spark. They had an agreement, and he was expected to keep up his end._

_"Very well. When and where?"_

_"Oh, I'll come by and collect you. It would be best for us to arrive together -- they're a rather suspicious lot, and they haven't been introduced to you yet. We'll be leaving in about, hm, five megacycles. Does that suit you?"_

_Dinobot shrugged._

_"Excellent." Megatron already knew him well enough to take the shrug as assent. If Dinobot had a problem with something, he would say so. "I believe this arrangement is going to work out quite nicely for both of us."_

_There was a silence, in which Dinobot wondered if he was expected to say something in response. He opted not to. As far as he was concerned, the discussion Megatron had sought him out for was over, and he was eager to get back to his solitary drills. But the other mech remained staring at him, and he was compelled to meet the stare. It wasn't a hostile look, but an intent one; it felt like scrutiny, appraisal, and Dinobot wasn't sure whether to be disconcerted or not. There was a prickle of unease when he thought of the way some mechs examined a new weapon or upgrade, thought he detected a hint of avarice and desire. But then it was gone, or hidden, and Megatron's face became as inscrutable as before, leaving Dinobot to wonder if his paranoia had tricked him._

_"Well, I suppose I'll leave you to your… whatever it is you were doing." Megatron glanced around thoughtfully. "Honestly, I'm rather glad to have found a use for this place. It's a bit too spartan, too lacking in refinement for my tastes." He turned back to Dinobot and smiled. "But it suits you rather nicely."_

_With that dubious compliment, Megatron took his leave. Only when he heard the front lock engage did Dinobot resume his exercises. Unfortunately, he found the moves a bit more difficult now, and couldn't quite seem to find the ideal state of processor that he had before. Something was throwing him off, something quite simple: the subtle, inexplicable, and unshakeable sensation that Megatron's optics were still on him._

- - - - -

There was no gentle return to consciousness. Dinobot wasn't dreaming, not even the troubled nightmares he'd faced increasingly as of late. One minute he was out cold, literally, in CR… and the next he was fully aware and convinced that only seconds had passed since he last dimmed his optics on the battlefield. He could still feel his own blade piercing him, taste the energon in the back of his throat, and hear Maximal voices exclaiming over him in dismay. Rattrap's voice was not among them. He didn't know where the rodent was, or if he was alright, or what had set him off screaming…

He woke, understandably, in something of a panic, trying to speak before his processor had fully caught up to his vocalizer, lashing out and trying to stand before taking in his new surroundings. The result was a garbled, unintelligible exclamation and several violent impacts on the interior of the CR chamber, which its computer politely translated as, "Let me out." The hatch opened and a disoriented warrior lurched out, wild light in his optics, taking in everything and seeing none of it.

"Whoa!" Rattrap had been watching the monitors, but was out of his chair and halfway across the room almost as soon as he heard the commotion inside the chamber. Only quick reflexes saved him from being bowled over by Dinobot's dramatic exit.

"Calm down, Lizard Lips! Taaaake it easy." He hoped that his 'addressing armed mechs on one too many illegal substances' voice, well-honed through many years of practice on Cybertron, would prove effective here. "You're awake, you're alright, everything's fine. Look at me. Everything's fine."

Thankfully, Dinobot did look at him. Confusion was slowly replaced by sanity and recognition. Then the warrior blinked and, to Rattrap's immense surprise, lunged for him.

Survival instincts went into at least yellow alert for a nanoklik as Rattrap's feet left the floor, Dinobot's talons gripping his body tightly. In the time it took him to realize he wasn't being attacked and to remember to breathe again, the warrior had quickly and intently scrutinized every inch of his surface. Returning his sharp gaze to Rattrap's face, Dinobot looked both relieved and puzzled. "You're unhurt," he said, the statement less certain than any question.

Rattrap recovered from his shock enough to smile. "Sure. Like I told ya, it's fine." He let his hands rest on Dinobot's shoulders, the warrior still holding him easily at eye level, close enough to his chest that it _could_ be termed an embrace. The urge to kiss him again flitted briefly through Rattrap's processor, but he brushed it aside rather than risk losing the moment as it was. "Glad you're awake. It was gettin' way too quiet--"

"What happened?" Dinobot demanded, the interruption almost frantic. Losing track of current events freaked him out more than it did most people, in Rattrap's experience, but he seemed to be taking this one especially bad. "I don't remember a thing after Megatron pinned me. And before that, you… you were screaming as if…" He shook his head, emitting a soft snarl of frustration. "Tell me what happened!"

So Rattrap told him. As he did so, outlining repeatedly the fact that everyone was okay, he watched the raptor begin to visibly relax… only to become suddenly alert and tense once more as Rattrap described what he'd been hit with.

"Hurt like a son of a glitch. I know a lot o' things that hurt, an' this was almost in a category of its own. My circuits felt like they all fried at once. Just a neurological reaction though, accordin' to Rhinox," he added hastily as he noted the change in Dinobot's expression. "I wasn't really damaged that bad. Couple hours in CR had me good to go -- well, 'cept for the slaggin' pins an' needles, but those went away."

Maybe Dinobot wasn't convinced, because he continued to look disturbed. "Surely Tarantulas had something much more deadly in his arsenal. Why did he settle for causing you pain?"

Rattrap shrugged. "Beats me. The spider's a sick glitch, maybe he did it just for kicks."

The warrior looked at him gravely for a long moment, then set him down. Rattrap tried to conceal his disappointment. Something in Dinobot's expression made it seem like he'd just delivered bad news instead of good. "Hey, what gives? Personally I consider it a stroke o' luck Tarantulas wasn't in a mood to frag me that day."

"He was following Megatron's orders." The words were spoken so quietly that at first they didn't register. Dinobot could have been talking to himself. "He was told not to harm you. Only to cause you agony… Primus, such a simple trap, how did I succumb to it?"

"Er, Chopperface?" Rattrap was looking at him as if the warrior had suddenly started spouting moon-speak. "What's this about?"

"We were fighting. I was _winning_. I had him in my sights, and then…" He hesitated. "Then I was distracted."

The rodent tried to reassure him. "Hey, it happens. None of us had much luck that day. I got zapped, Rhinox got poisoned, Boss-Monkey got shot an' couldn't recover the protoform, but at least we're all--"

Dinobot looked at him so fiercely that he may as well have picked him up and shaken him. Rattrap instantly fell silent. "_You_ were the distraction, vermin! You were the trap. He used you against me. To do that, he would have had to know… or at least suspect. _Megatron suspects us_. Do you understand?"

Well, he did now. "Oh. … Oh, _slag_."

(TBC!)

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**andalitebandit-6**: *Dodges* There, here's your DinoTrap goodness. More coming up in the next chapter, which picks up right where this one leaves off. (That goes for the rest of you, too.)

**Cu-Curee**: Yeah, I chickened out. I'd had enough of writing fight scenes. Plus I really didn't have a good POV to write that one from, except possibly Cheetor, and I'm not great at writing Cheetor. So I just let Rhinox explain. He does a pretty good job summing up catastrophes, anyway.

**missingrache**: I love Optimus Primal. Seriously. He cracks me up. And he does an amazing job of leadership considering what he has to work with. I know I would've shot them all by now. Not to say he's perfect, but he tries and he's got more common sense than half the rest of the cast put together.

**flamingmarsh**: Correction -- _Megatron_ doesn't want them to kill Rattrap or Dinobot. He's got plans, y'see. Blackarachnia or Terrorsaur would just as soon shoot them and call it a day, but eh, they're not in charge.

**Nameless Moonlight5**: Indeed. Megatron is crazy, but he's not stupid.

**Kayasuri-n**: Not hoping he'd die, just decided that getting the rest of them safely in the base while the Predacons were retrieving their wounded was a greater priority. He thinks Dinobot can take care of himself. Granted, he probably would've made a different call if it'd been Optimus or Rattrap left out there instead. We all know my opinion of Rhinox.

**Shadow Wolf**: Exactly. I could picture it, but ultimately it made more sense to let readers' imaginations fill in the details. Some things do not need to be spelled out. Suffice to say that it was bad enough to horrify Rhinox. O_O

**OrianPrime92**: They'll be fine. They always are. Well, Dinobot may not be exactly _fine_ for a while, but they'll live. And sooner or later, there'll be revenge. Awesome revenge.

(As to those of you wondering about the new arrival, you'll just have to wait and see. It'll be a few chapters yet before that little subplot comes up again. I think everyone will be a bit surprised.)


	21. The More You Know!

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 21)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Long chapter is long. My god, these two. Once they start talking there's no shutting them up. I seriously tried to cut this chapter short, several times, but I finally gave up and let 'em go. Fluff alert!

- - - - -

"So whadda we do now?"

_How the hell should I know?_ Dinobot almost snapped, but restrained himself. Glancing around the command center, he said, "We can't discuss this here. The others will be back sooner or later. Follow me."

The base wasn't large, and it didn't take Rattrap long to realize where they were going. "Whoa, hey, your room? Why don't we just step outside?"

"And risk surveillance by Cyberbees? Or spiders? I don't know about you, rodent, but I'd rather every word of this _not_ get back to Megatron." There was uneasiness in the way he spoke the tyrant's name, and agitation in his movements as he punched in the door code. He stepped in, and Rattrap hesitated, just briefly, on the threshold. He'd been in here only a few days before and been welcome, but Dinobot seemed so upset now, he wasn't sure--

"Quickly, Vermin. It's not me you need to worry about. Lock the door behind you."

Once they were inside, Dinobot seemed to settle down somewhat. He filled a cup that was sitting on top of his energon dispenser and stood nursing it for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts. Rattrap had no idea what to do, so he leaned back against the door uneasily, averting his optics from the striped pelt on the wall that kept trying to grab them. He looked at Dinobot instead, and was disturbed to see the worry displayed openly on his face, his hands shaking slightly as they clutched the cup… although that could have simply been a residual effect of all the repairs he'd undergone. There were no visible scars, the CR chamber having thoroughly done its work, but that didn't mean the memories of being impaled and left for dead were going to leave Dinobot as easily.

Suddenly he felt foolish for being nervous around the warrior, who was clearly more frightened than Rattrap at the moment. Pushing off from the door, he crossed the room to Dinobot and reached for his hands, small fingers curling around the long talons. The raptor exhaled and Rattrap thought he relaxed slightly, but couldn't be positive. His optics cleared somewhat, and he looked down at the rodent.

"I'm… sorry."

Rattrap blinked. "Uh, what for?"

"For putting you in danger. I let emotion get the better of me. I knew it would lead to disaster, but I refused to listen to common sense."

The rat shrugged. "Hey, same here, but I don't regret it. Sure, things have gotten interestin', maybe a little wild, but I wouldn't call it a disaster just yet." He patted the scaly fingers, which pulled reluctantly away from his grasp.

"As always, vermin, you miss the point," said Dinobot without actual malice. "Megatron will continue to target you, now that he knows it will work. You have no idea what I've dragged you into."

_Primus, somebody's feelin' pessimistic_. "Hey, Chopperface? Last I looked, you weren't draggin' me into anything. Slag, I started this whole thing. I knew damn well I was takin' a risk."

"You _don't_ know," snapped Dinobot. "You don't know how far he'll go to get what he wants. _I_ know, I've seen firs--" He stopped himself as if he'd been about to jump off a cliff.

There was a tense silence. Rattrap folded his arms. "Startin' to sound like there's somethin' you don't wanna tell me."

Dinobot's nostrils flared, but he didn't answer. He turned away from Rattrap and began to pace, like a caged animal -- a sure sign the gears were turning in his head. Rattrap watched him, his own processor buzzing with questions, theories, and hints, all starting to come together. _Chopperface is hell-bent on slaggin' Megatron every chance he gets, an' none of us ever really asked him why_. Primal and the others had mostly assumed it stemmed from a single act of betrayal, whatever had made Dinobot finally leave. But the hatred ran too deep for that, and Rattrap for one had always been sure there was more between them. Megatron's words to Dinobot on the battlefield always seemed to be laced with innuendo, with a darker, hidden meaning…

Rattrap was not naïve. He had his suspicions. Didn't mean he was eager to confirm them, but it might be dangerous not to.

"You an' Megatron," he began, knowing he was walking through a minefield here, that he'd have to tread carefully. "How long'd you work with him?"

"Almost--" Dinobot paused in his pacing. "Almost forty decacycles. Longer than any of his current crew, except Scorponok."

Rattrap let out a low whistle between his front teeth. "He didn't just hire you for this trip, then." _Primus, I've barely known Rhinox that long_.

The warrior snorted. "I'm no sellsword. He was a revolutionary, I was dissatisfied -- his ideas appealed to me, then. I hated the Maximals. I hardly had to be convinced to take part in a plot to restore Predacon superiority." He sounded bitter.

"Why'd you change your mind? I mean, if you stuck with him for all that time…" He trailed off as Dinobot turned to look at him. His expression made Rattrap instinctively want to flatten himself against a wall and reach for a pistol, and it took a second to realize that it wasn't really directed _at_ him, that Dinobot was actually looking _through_ him into the far distance, into the past. The spy fumbled for his dropped words. "I… shouldna brought that up, should I?"

The warrior turned away and flung his cup against the wall. Rattrap winced, but that seemed to be it as far as demonstrations of violence were concerned. Suddenly seeming drained, the raptor plunked down on the edge of his berth and buried his face in his clawed hands. Rattrap blinked and cautiously approached.

"Chop-- Dinobot? You okay--"

The claws dragged wearily down the blue metal of his face as Dinobot raised his head. His expression was now resigned, almost defeated, or as close to it as Rattrap had ever seen him. "I can't believe I'm going to tell you this," he mumbled. Then, fixing the spy with something resembling his usual threatening glare, "Not a word of it will leave this room. Is that clear?"

Rattrap nodded. He went so far as to take a seat himself, far enough from Dinobot for the warrior's comfort -- and also at an angle where Dinobot wouldn't have to look at him as he talked. "I'm listenin'."

"Good." The larger mech looked down at the claws folded loosely in his lap, studying them for a moment; then he raised his head and stared fixedly at the far wall as he started to speak. "On Cybertron, Megatron was known publicly as Chromebite. He was a perfectly legitimate businessmech, no criminal record to speak of." Rattrap nodded; he had read as much in Megatron's file, which Command had sent them when they contacted Primal for this mission.

"Officially, I was his bodyguard. Unofficially -- at least at first -- I was probably his most trusted subordinate. Shortly after he recruited me, I saved him from an assassination attempt. That act proved my loyalty, and he kept me at his side almost constantly afterwards." There was pride in his voice now, much as he tried to hide it, and Rattrap could tell how much that trust had meant to him at the time. "Sometimes he confided in me, things he would not tell any of the others, not even his inner circle. He asked for my tactical input, and entrusted me with missions of the highest priority. For all intents and purposes, I was his second in command. I even dared to consider him a friend -- my only friend."

Rattrap was stunned into silence for a moment. _Second. He was Megatron's second in command. I shoulda known he wasn't just hired muscle, but, slag_. No wonder the raptor had tried to assume leadership of the Maximals when he first came to them, and afterwards whenever Primal was incapacitated. In his head, he had the right of command. _An' they were friends? Can't see ol' Megs bein' friends with anybody. He acts more like he's tryin' to reclaim lost property than an old pal_.

Finally he asked, "So how'd you go from all that to leavin' him for the enemy faction? I'm guessin' you didn't just storm out 'cause he stranded you all on this dirtball, considerin' you're the only one that left."

Dinobot let out one of his derisive snorts. "No. Things had gone sour between us long before this mission. At first it was arguably my doing. I felt that our plans were unfolding too slowly. I had put all my faith in Megatron, and when he failed to produce results, I grew impatient. I wanted to see the glory of the Predacons restored immediately. Megatron reminded me that I had agreed to serve him without question, and warned me not to push him."

The spy knew well how little effect warnings had on Dinobot. "An' you didn't listen."

"I kept pushing. So he did what any Predacon commander would do."

Rattrap shuddered. Dinobot glanced over at him sharply. "We obtain leadership by force, and that is how we keep it," he explained, sounding almost defensive. "I know how it looks to Maximals. But if that had been our only conflict, I would still be serving Megatron."

_Ain't that a cheerful thought_. "So what, it went downhill from there?"

Judging by Dinobot's expression, it certainly had. "There was no more trouble between us for a time. Then Megatron recruited Tarantulas. There were few Cybertronians alive who could decode the disk we were planning to steal, and he was the only one who offered his services -- in fact, he seemed quite keen to join us. But I didn't trust him. Once again, I objected to Megatron's decision."

Rattrap sucked in a breath. "Ohhh, boy."

"As you can imagine, neither of us was willing to back down. The argument became violent. When it finally ended, Megatron's jaw needed to be reconstructed, and I was in CR for five solar cycles."

"Slag me," said the spy in an awed voice.

"Even for Predacons, this was hardly typical. But it didn't end there. Soon we were fighting frequently over relatively minor issues. Sometimes it was due to my questioning orders, sometimes due to Megatron placing blame where it didn't belong. Every time our plan encountered delays, setbacks, he'd-- we'd take it out on each other."

"An' Megatron wants you _back_?" Rattrap blurted in disbelief. Primus, he fought with the raptor often enough himself, but not to the point where they needed _major repairs_ afterwards. Why the Pit would anyone want to go through that again, even someone like Megatron? "I mean, knowin' him, I woulda thought he'd just slag you for bein' so much trouble."

Dinobot looked at him like he was a simpleton. "I was still his second in command. I never sought to betray or overthrow him, no matter how mad and deluded I was beginning to think he was. I was loyal, reliable, and competent. He was determined to bring me under control, true, but he had no intention of letting me go."

"So you stayed an' served him? Chopperface, that's… that's…" Rattrap couldn't even come up with words that suited the situation.

"Appalling to you, I'm sure. Believe me, it was unpleasant, but I had been through worse. I still believed in his cause. I intended to see it through to the end, be it victory or failure." Despite the self-assuredness of his words, he sounded almost defensive, and Rattrap could hear the doubt in his voice. It didn't take a headshrinker to see that the warrior was making excuses.

Unsure whether to smack him upside the head for his insane logic or hug him for his bravery, Rattrap settled for placing a hand on the warrior's shoulder. Dinobot tensed, but only slightly, and didn't brush him away. The spy allowed his fingers to squeeze the beastmode flesh in a friendly but firm, almost possessive grip. "Well, thank Primus y'finally came to your senses. We wouldn't have you with us otherwise." _An' I wouldn't even know what I was missin'. Neither would you, for that matter_.

A moment's hesitation and Dinobot reached across, resting his left hand over top of Rattrap's, warm scales against cool metal. "There was a time I regretted leaving," he said without looking at the smaller Maximal, his expression hard to read. "But that time has passed."

"Good t' hear," said Rattrap casually. It was the biggest understatement he'd ever made -- he was warmed to the Core and had to fight back a face-splitting smile. Still, he hadn't lost track of the sobering topic. "So what _was_ the last straw? Or'd you just get tired of it all?"

"Oh, I grew tired of it long ago. Tired of arguing, of not being listened to, of being backhanded whenever I dared to point out his mistakes. I was willing to endure such aggravation for the sake of our goals. But there were some things I could _not_ stand. The 'last straw' was his refusal to engage me in honorable combat over the right to leadership, after he had failed to carry out his cunning plan."

Rattrap snorted. "Honorable combat? Yeah, not surprised he refused there. Ain't that when you came looking for us?" He'd heard some of this story before, the day after Dinobot joined the Maximals, when they were all grilling him about his motivations for defecting. But he hadn't known Dinobot very well then, so the explanation hadn't made a whole lot of sense.

"Yes. He turned his back on me, and allowed Scorponok to shoot me instead." Dinobot's optics were hard and cold, and his free hand curled into a fist. "I'm quite sure he expected me to return after being rebuked, as I had nowhere to go. But I'll be damned if I even considered it. A leader who will not face his own challengers is unworthy of service. There is no honor in him, and I doubt there ever was."

He sounded bitter, and Rattrap couldn't blame him. From the sound of things, Megatron had once been an inspiration to him, a figure he admired and respected, someone he trusted. Oh great mother of Unicron, he _trusted_ Megatron. Frankly Rattrap would be amazed if he ever trusted anyone else in a thousand years. Between the betrayal, and the disillusionment of finding out his revolutionary leader was nothing more than a twisted megalomaniac who didn't give half a scrap about him…

Nimble fingers squeezed the warrior's shoulder again. "Hey, it ain't your fault," he told Dinobot earnestly, in the wheedling tone he normally used to ask forgiveness for his own mistakes. In this case, he was trying to get Dinobot to forgive himself. "Megatron's a manipulator. He finds out people's weakness an' uses it against 'em. He's a sleazeball, but he could charm the spots off a cheetah an' sell legs to a tarantula if you let him talk long enough. It ain't your fault for trustin'--"

Dinobot stood up suddenly, letting Rattrap's arm slip off of him. "It was," he said simply, the flat tone leaving little room for debate. "I had my suspicions the moment he approached me. I allowed him to overcome them. I have paid the price for ignoring my own instincts." He turned, staring down at the rodent, a note of anger and of sorrow in his optics. "What concerns me now is that _you_ will pay the price as well. As you said, Megatron seeks out weaknesses. He is a master at spotting them." His voice softened, lowered. "And unfortunately for you -- though I would have loathed to admit it even a month ago -- you _are_ my greatest weakness."

Rattrap's fuel pump seemed to sieze on him for a second. He knew well what Predacons considered a weakness. _Is he sayin' what I think he's sayin'?_

"Y'mean that?" he asked, barely aware of how squeaky his voice sounded, like a young femme being asked on her first date. "I mean, d'you mean… what it sounded like you meant? 'Cause it sounded like…"

Dinobot facepalmed.

"You are such an idiot," he growled into his hand, but even muffled, the tone was slightly affectionate. "Do I have to write it out for you?"

The rat let out a very undignified whoop and launched himself from the edge of the berth, throwing his arms around the raptor's neck. Dinobot stumbled back, surprised, flailing, and quite probably struggling with half-suppressed warrior reflexes. Rattrap didn't care. He clung to the damn saurian stubbornly, ready to resist any and all efforts to pry him off. _Not lettin' go this time, nope. I got you now, you reptilian menace, I'm not givin' this up_ --

"Rattrap," said Dinobot in a voice of strained calm, "have you gone insane?"

The rodent raised his head from a scaly chestplate and looked up at him cheekily, all smiles. "What, recently? Why d'you ask?"

Scowling, Dinobot tapped the side of Rattrap's helm with a claw. "_Think_ about this, vermin. Megatron will be targeting _you_ now. This is not a Good Thing. In fact, if I were you, I'd be listening to those rodent instincts and running far away."

"Rats? We hide more'n we run. 'Sides, I ain't goin' anywhere." He clutched the warrior tighter for emphasis, and felt Dinobot's exasperated sigh run through his whole body.

"Vermin, I'm serious. Standing between Megatron and something he wants is not wise."

"Oh-ho, I won't be standin' between you. I'll be standin' behind you. Ready to back you up with a couple o' grenades if need be, o'course." Rattrap was nothing if not practical.

"I would rather you were out of harm's way altogether, so I wouldn't be distracted by concern for your well-being -- as I was recently," Dinobot pointed out sharply. "And speaking of distractions, would you get down? I can't talk to you like this."

Reluctantly, Rattrap let go of him and dropped to the floor. Placing his hands on his hips, he tilted his head back to look up at Dinobot, decided he didn't care for the angle, and climbed up to stand on his berth instead. Now they were almost optic-to-optic. "There. Now, what were you sayin'?"

"Listen carefully, rodent. Megatron used you against me, and it won't be the last time, unless we end this."

"End what?"

"_This!_" Dinobot snapped, gesturing rather vaguely at both of them. "_Whatever_ this is. This madness, this foolishness. We've allowed it to go much too far already."

Rattrap sighed romantically. "You got such a way with words."

The warrior growled. "Rattrap…"

The spy smiled sweetly. "Dinobot?"

"Pestilence!"

"Egghead."

"Fleabrain!"

"Slaughterbreath."

"_Hn_. How creative."

Rattrap grinned. "See? I love this. No way I'm givin' this up. You're not gettin' rid o' me, Chopperface. Not even Megs can scare me off." He sat down cross-legged on the berth, pointedly making himself comfortable. "What about you? He don't have a say in your life no more. You gonna let him stop you doin' something you want?"

Dinobot looked like he was getting a headache. "I'm trying to save your useless, verminous hide," he said through gritted teeth. "I will _drive_ you away if I have to, if it keeps Megatron away from you."

"An' what makes you think it will?"

Dinobot was silent.

"Look, Scalebelly, I get what you're doin', an' I'm touched an' all. But I don't think you thought this all the way through. If Megs has us figured out, then he's gonna come after both us an' there's nothin' we can do about it." Rattrap smiled. "Except stick together. Seriously, where'm I gonna be safest? Right next to you."

The warrior stared down at him, looking as though he wanted to toss Rattrap off his berth but couldn't bring himself to. "I suppose if I did chase you off, you'd just come back," said Dinobot resignedly. "Like a fly on a carcass."

Rattrap lay back and stretched out on the berth. "Again with the sweet talk. Admit it, you don't really want me to leave."

Dinobot watched him with something bordering on alarm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What? I ain't slept in three solar cycles. I was waitin' on your scaly butt to get outta CR." Rattrap's optics dimmed. "You got a big berth. S' cozy." He brightened them again slightly and peeked up at Dinobot. "Big enough for both of us," he said mischievously.

The warrior stared at him. Rattrap chuckled and let his optics go offline. Hmm, this really wasn't bad. If Chopperface wanted him to leave, he was gonna have to carry him out…

There was a slight creak of metal, and something heavy settled beside him. "Move over," growled the low, harsh voice. Rattrap twisted around in astonishment to find Dinobot smirking back at him. "Or did I mistake your invitation?"

"Uh, n…no." Rattrap scooted over to make room for the warrior, who lay down at his back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His mind flashed back on a cave in which they'd huddled during a blizzard, ages ago it seemed, long before either of them had admitted that anything but enmity existed between them. His Spark skipped a pulse when a powerful arm draped over his body.

Dinobot's words rumbled quietly against the back of his helm. "If you won't stay out of trouble, rodent, you'll at least stay where I can see you. I don't intend to let you out of my sight again."

For once, Rattrap could find nothing to argue with.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**andalitebandit-6**: Nah, the exerpt from the romance novel was unrelated to the situation. Just happened to be the scene Rattrap was reading right then. I guess he figured the best way to tell Dinobot "Get well soon" was to annoy him back to health with his shitty taste in literature. ;)

Looks like nobody else had questions. Good, because I'm three-quarters asleep and should not even be posting fiction at this hour, let alone answering reviews. Enjoy, and please let me know what you thought.


	22. Endangered Species

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 22)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Disturbing content abounds in this chapter, mostly in the form of flashbacks. Tigatron may or may not be OOC (personally I don't think so, but your mileage may vary).

- - - - -

Cheetor reflected, not for the first time, that his beastmode was not made for forest travel. His rangy legs had a tendency to get tangled in thick undergrowth, and his acute vision wasn't much use with so many trees in the way. He preferred patrol routes with a lot of open ground, but today it was Airazor searching the plains while Cheetor and Tigatron combed the jungle for the missing protoform.

According to his chronometer, it was almost time to return to base. He was torn about that. On the one hand, he'd been out since dawn; he was tired and hungry, and the wanderings in the forest had left his feet sore and his coat full of burrs. On the other, he hated to give up while the protoform was still out there somewhere, probably alone and scared. Not that he had much choice. If he didn't come home on time, he wouldn't put it past Big Bot to send out a search party.

He wished there was more they could do. They _had_ rigged their field scanners to notify them of any unidentified Maximal signatures passing by, but that still left a lot of ground uncovered. Cheetor himself had suggested building a scanner with a longer range, or broadcasting some kind of continuous signal from the _Axalon_ that the protoform might pick up and home in on, but Rhinox was so involved in salvaging parts that he wouldn't take time out to work on anything else, and Optimus had only said, "Be patient, Cheetor. We'll find it, don't worry."

_Be patient_. They always said that. Cheetor sometimes wondered if it would ever be time to stop being patient and start DOING something.

Today, though, he was about beat. It was slagging hot out, too. He'd have to go in and rest if he wanted to start fresh tomorrow.

Making his way back by the river, he stopped for a drink to cool his overheated systems. Between the roar of the nearby waterfall and the chorus of birds and monkeys, he didn't hear Tigatron approaching.

"Hello, little cat."

Cheetor inhaled water up his nose, leaping back with a yelp of surprise as the reflection of a furry white face appeared next to his. Bristling, he looked up to find Tigatron standing beside him.

"Geez! Give a guy a little warning." Cheetor snorted to clear his nostrils and shook himself until his fur settled.

The tiger looked amused. "My apologies. Sometimes I forget to make noise when I walk."

"Good thing you don't hang around the _Axalon_ much, then. Dinobot would dice you into cubes for that." Cheetor meant it as a joke, but then he realized it probably wasn't far from the truth. "Find anything?" he asked hopefully, by way of changing the subject.

Tigatron shook his head. "No luck, I'm afraid. Whoever this protoform is, it's beginning to look like they don't wish to be found."

"They'd better just hope we find them before the Preds do." Cheetor glanced up automatically at the sky. "I haven't seen any all day, have you?"

"Only Waspinator, and he fled when he saw me. It's possible the Predacons have other things on their minds."

Cheetor really didn't want to think what those things might be. He shook his head. "Well, I'm heading back. Wouldn't want Big Bot to worry himself into stasis lock."

"Does Optimus really think you're that incapable of taking care of yourself? Even after you saved one of your teammates?"

The young Maximal bristled despite himself; Tigatron had managed to hit a sore spot. He'd been trying not to think the exact same thing, wondering how far he had to go to prove himself before he stopped being just the kid of the group, especially in Primal's eyes. "It's not like that," he said a little too defensively. "He worries about everybody." Which was true.

"Of course." Tigatron dropped his gaze, averting an argument. "He is a good leader. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

"Good." Cheetor started to turn away… then turned back. "Why don't you come in, too? It's really quiet at base, Rhinox is sulking and I think Dinobot's still in CR, so it won't be too crowded--"

The tiger was already shaking his head. "Thank you for the offer, little cat. But being indoors doesn't suit me. I am more useful to the Maximals out here."

His argument reminded Cheetor of Dinobot's from a few days ago. "C'mon, enough with the excuses. You're one of us, Tigatron, and I don't get why you don't act like it. It's hard to reach you when you're never around. That whole battle with the Preds, we missed you 'cause you were off chasing some weird energy signature up on the mountain." He realized how harsh he sounded when Tigatron hung his head in shame. "I mean, I know you were just following orders, and it probably wouldn't have made much difference anyway…" He trailed off. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Cheetor. I regret that I wasn't there to help." He looked up. "Still, my place is out here, in the wilds. I wouldn't fit in too well with the others."

The younger cat huffed. "Least then I'd have somebody to talk to," he mumbled. "You're the only one around that doesn't treat me like a kid."

The tiger smiled. "You don't have to leave. We can stay out here and talk as long as you like." He rubbed the side of his big head against the other cat's cheek.

Cheetor shivered a little. "Actually, I'm pretty tired." He gulped as Tigatron nuzzled his shoulder. "And, uh, I think I've had enough of the great outdoors for one day…"

The larger cat chuckled. "Suit yourself. But you could really stand to be cleaned off first."

He swiped Cheetor's neck with his tongue. The cheetah gasped, but held himself still, tensing up just a little as the tiger began to groom him. He'd only recently been introduced to this activity, since about the time Snowstalker died, and it still felt a little weird to him. The cheetah part of his mind kind of liked it, but the rest of him… he didn't know. Still, he knew Tigatron wouldn't harm him and he didn't want to hurt the other Maximal's feelings, so he let him do it.

"He-ey, that tickles!" He twitched as Tigatron cleaned between his shoulder blades. "Isn't this what washracks are for?"

"Washracks are good for metal, little cat. Not so good for fur." The tiger moved on down his spine. Cheetor tried to relax, wondering what his fur tasted like, if he tasted more like an animal or a robot…

_"The blood tastes best when it comes from living creatures. It's why I built the web, you see…"_

Cheetor shuddered violently, pulling away without thinking. Tigatron gave him a puzzled look. "Is something wrong, little cat?"

The younger Maximal barely heard him over his fuel pump kicking into high gear. "I'm… I'm kinda low on energy, that's all." The sensation of vitality being slowly drained away was suddenly sharp in his memory, while his own voice sounded faint and distant. "I think I'll go in and get some fuel."

_"Feeling tired, cat? Don't worry, it will be over soon."_

Tigatron nodded, apparently not picking up on the strength of Cheetor's reaction. "Go and replenish yourself, then. We can continue searching after--" He froze, whipping his head around. "Wait. Listen!"

It took Cheetor a second to drag his mind out of the shadows of the past. Then he quickly picked up on the commotion. Actually, if not for the ambient noise of the waterfall and wildlife, it would be difficult to miss. Whoever it was, they weren't being subtle…

"I think I smell smoke," he said, inhaling sharply. _Well, that answers the question of 'who'_.

Tigatron was already bounding ahead downstream. "Hurry, little cat! He may have found our friend!"

- - - - -

The rat was snoring now, sleeplessness and stress finally taking their toll. Dinobot had rarely seen him so still for any length of time, and found himself quite content to lie exactly where he was, studying the familiar curves and lines of the spy's small body at leisure.

Of course, his Inner Predacon was having a field day with this. _Looks good enough to eat, doesn't he?_

Dinobot scoffed. _Don't be repulsive_. _His stench would kill any appetite_.

_Judging by your proximity, it seems to be losing its effect_.

The warrior smirked to himself, trailing a claw along the back of Rattrap's arm and watching him twitch in recharge. Okay, so his predatory inclinations toward the vermin had not entirely abated, but at least he was learning to control them. Among Predacons it was not so unusual to love someone and want to eat them at the same time, but Maximals seemed to find it --

He caught himself in mid-musing. Love? Was he really in _love_ with this obnoxious, foul-smelling, glitch-ridden scavenging pest?

He stared down at the spy, dubious. Rattrap shifted in his sleep with a wordless murmur, and the warrior's gaze softened. …_Of course I am. Stupid question. Otherwise I would have killed him_.

His Inner Predacon chose that moment to jab him. _Do you think he'd be sleeping so peacefully if you had told him everything?_

Dinobot frowned. _I told him enough_. He'd been more open with Rattrap in their last conversation than he'd ever been with another being in his life, and nothing he'd said was untrue. Of course, there was quite a bit he _hadn't_ said. He had glossed over his fights with Megatron because he wanted the vermin to think they were just that -- arguments that escalated into violence. It was easier to explain, and far less pride-damaging, than the truth of their rather… complicated relationship. And on _that_ subject, there was another matter he had avoided mentioning completely, even though Rattrap seemed to be steering him towards it…

_You edited the truth. You, who pride yourself on honesty. You don't want him to know why Megatron was so determined to recruit you, why he kept you around in spite of the conflicts, and why you stayed. You don't want to tell him about the cameras, the touches, the barely-concealed looks. If the vermin knew that once you'd allowed him to_--

He shook his head to knock that train of thought off the rails. It was the very last thing he wanted to have on his mind right now.

Clearly, lying here with nothing to do but brood was a bad idea. There was no way he was joining Rattrap in recharge; he'd been out long enough in CR, and besides, he knew damn well his dreams weren't going to be pleasant. His abdomen twinged uncomfortably where Megatron had stabbed him, and knowing it was only a sensory memory and that his wounds had actually fully healed did not make it any easier to ignore. Carefully, so as not to wake the rat (not only out of concern but because he didn't want awkward questions), he rose from the berth. Rattrap's snoring didn't falter.

_Why does a robot even snore? I don't. At least, I'm quite sure I don't_. He added it to the long list of things about the spy that didn't make any sense. At this rate, he was going to need an external harddrive to store all his unanswered questions.

The twinge in his gut reminded him that he'd come out of CR without his sword. Not that that worried him; it wasn't the first time, and he was sure the other Maximals had secured it for him. Still, he preferred having it on him, even inside the base. A mech did not live with combat and the threat of attack as long as Dinobot had without developing at least a touch of paranoia. An unarmed warrior was a nervous warrior.

The sword was right where he knew it would be. Optimus, the only Maximal allowed in Dinobot's room when Dinobot was not in it, always returned it to the same place when the warrior was out of commission: the seldom-used rack on the wall near his window. Carefully Dinobot took it down and looked it over. Primal had made an attempt to clean it off, but there were traces of mech fluid (_his_ mech fluid) between the rotating segments, and the sheen of the metal was dull. Well, only he really knew how to care for the thing, after all. It wasn't easy to clean.

At least now he had something to do.

He'd requested his own cleaning supplies shortly after joining the crew, because he sure as the Pit wasn't going to leave the care and maintenance of _his_ weapons to anyone else. Dinobot had been trained for self-sufficiency, and liked having everything he might need in one place. It didn't take much -- a couple of decent soft cloths, some oil and solvent, and a steel brush that didn't scratch right through the alloy. Every so often he ran out of solvent or wore a cloth to threads, and simply plundered new materials from Rhinox's seemingly endless stash. If the engineer even noticed (which was doubtful), he decided not to say anything. After all, it was less work for _him_ if Dinobot took care of his own equipment.

Seating himself cross-legged against a wall, the warrior laid his sword across his knees and set the maintenance kit beside him. He applied the solvent carefully to dissolve and break up the chemical bonds of the dried mech fluid that remained, then started scrubbing it away, segment by segment. His killing hands with their long unwieldly digits became precision instruments for this sort of work, their movements well-practiced, their touch surprisingly light. Soon the calm and concentration focused on those hands began to travel up his arms to his shoulders, which relaxed slightly, and through the rest of his frame, tension bleeding away almost imperceptibly. Eventually even his face assumed a peaceful expression. As the stains were lifted one by one, darkness seemed to lift from his Spark as well.

The quiet was apparently contagious. The racket from his bunk gradually ceased, and only by listening carefully could he detect the slightest hum and whir of Rattrap's internal systems. It didn't disturb his concentration at all. In fact, he'd become so accustomed to taking the rat's presence for granted, he failed to realize the significance of this situation entirely. Sleeping or no, in roughly two centuries of existence he had never let his guard down so far while in the same room as another living being.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**SamanthaRose**: Sometimes I wonder if Scott McNeil would hate me for this. I'd like to think he'd at least get a laugh out of it, though.

**andalitebandit-6**: You think it was that easy? Please. They're still keeping a lot from each other. We haven't heard _half_ of the Dinobot-Megatron mess… and I've not even begun on Rattrap's history yet. ;)

**OrianPrime92**: Rattrap is a master of the verbal bitchslap. There's no argument like common sense, is there?

**missingrache**: That's the censored way of saying Megatron beat six kinds of slag out of him for not shutting up when he was told. Rattrap figured as much, hence the shudder. (Good job spotting the reference to the one-shot.)

**Kayasuri-n**: So you'll be free advertising. I'm not complaining. :P

**AH36**: Ask them. I don't have any control here, I'm just the writer.

**CelosiaGriffon**: I love when lurkers come out and introduce themselves. Nice to meet you. I love reviews, and cookies. Feeeeeed the muses.

Sorry this chapter was so short, all. Tigatron fans should be quitting in disgust right about now, so there goes a good chunk of my fan base. The rest of you, thanks for sticking around. Next chapter: Just what is Inferno trying to set fire to?


	23. Could We Get A Refund?

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 23)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: As you've probably figured by now, there's an OC in this chapter. I'd be especially interested in feedback on that, since it's something I tried to tackle very carefully.

- - - - -

The vervet monkey troop was in chaos. The trees were on fire, bolts of death rained down at random from above, and the attackers circling over their heads were larger and more terrifying than any bird of prey. Only the agility of the little primates had kept them alive, and even that wasn't always enough, as a few charred bodies could attest. They had no way of defending themselves from the alien invaders, could not even comprehend why they were being hunted.

"Show yourself, Maximal! Surrender, or this entire colony will BUUUUUURN!" Inferno swept his flamethrower from side to side, spreading fire to the few trees that weren't already blazing.

Terrorsaur shot at a monkey cowering on a nearby branch. The primate leaped clear not a second too soon as the branch was vaporized. "It has to be here somewhere. The energy signature's right under our noses."

"Terror-bot better be right this time." His partner hovered behind him, taking potshots at the monkeys as they fled into the open away from the burning brush. "Wazzpinator tired of wild-goose chase."

"That was a stork, and I tell you it was acting suspicious. Anyway, _I_ wasn't the one who decided to bomb the river."

"Hmph. Maximal _might_ have been hiding as a fish."

Inferno interrupted them. "Pay attention, fools! More enemies of the colony are approaching!"

"Well, look who it is! Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Come chase the pretty birdie!" Terrorsaur was giddy, high on destruction, and he cackled gleefully while firing on the two Maximals. Cheetor and Tigatron hastily dove for cover, transforming as they did so. Tigatron regained his feet first, weapon outstretched, a deep growl welling up in his vocalizer as he took in the sight of the burning trees and terrified monkeys.

"Cowards! Take on something your own size!" He started firing, concentrating on Inferno who was causing by far the most damage.

Cheetor popped up beside him, shooting at the other two Predacons. He was the worst marksman in the _Axalon_, and knew it, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. The two fliers quickly split to make themselves separate targets, and Waspinator began flying erratically over his head while Terrorsaur circled around to try and shoot him from behind. Cheetor stifled a curse. Neither of them was much of a threat individually, but throw in teamwork and they were more than a match for him. He really wondered whether they should've called for backup.

Too late now. He focused his aim on Waspinator while trying to keep an optic on Terrorsaur over his shoulder. One of his shots, by sheer luck, clipped the wasp's wing. Then he had to roll out of the way to avoid Terrorsaur's revenge missile, which exploded against the ground right next to him. The force of the blast added to his momentum and he kept going until he slammed into a tree trunk, almost losing the grip on his weapon.

Lying on his back, he thought he saw movement in the branches up above, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the Predacons. Terrorsaur swooped down and hovered low, where he could aim at Cheetor without having to fire through the leaves. His pretty face wore a decidedly unpleasant smirk.

"Come on, cat! Take your best shot. You can't even hit Waspinator's big aft, let alone--"

A small object struck him in the head. Cut off with a squawk in mid-sentence, Terrorsaur looked up -- only for another object to smack right into his face. It burst with a wave of sickly-sweet scent, splattering rotten pulp. The pteranodon shrieked and began frantically wiping his optics clear, but not before Cheetor was given a good clear shot at him. The Maximal forced himself to slow down, take a second to aim before actually squeezing the trigger. His shot took Terrorsaur square in the chest, sending the Predacon flying backwards.

Cheetor was getting to his feet when an olive-gray shape dropped out of the tree in front of him. A very large vervet monkey stared at him briefly with wide yellow eyes, then bounded away in the direction that Terrorsaur had landed. Cheetor followed.

"What the slag-- Hey! GIVE THAT BACK!"

Terrorsaur had dropped his weapon when Cheetor shot him, and the monkey was now dragging it off. The Predacon lunged after it. Cheetor fired at the ground near his hand and Terrorsaur froze, caught in a sense of déjá vu as he again found himself staring up at the barrel of a Maximal's gun.

"…Let me guess. 'If I were you, I'd run'?"

He was injured, and he wasn't armed. As much glee as Cheetor normally took in slagging Predacons, he found himself lowering the gun. "Transform and get out of here, Terrorsaur," he said coldly. "I won't shoot at you."

"Well, how kind." Missile launchers popped suddenly into place. "But I can't promise the same." Before the Maximal could respond, he fired.

Cheetor was thrown backward violently. Stunned, he lay on his back, smoke rising from his chest. Terrorsaur's cackling sounded hazy and distant. _Oh, now that was smart, Cheetor. What'd you expect from a Pred_…

With effort, he cleared his optics and saw Terrorsaur looming over him. He wasn't as badly injured as he'd seemed -- most of the blast had dissipated against his shields and there was only a scorch mark on his chest to show where Cheetor had hit him. "Ah, Maximals. So stupid you almost defeat yourselves." Above the smirk, his optics glinted menacingly. "My turn."

A bolt of energy struck Terrorsaur in the side and hurled him off his feet. Cheetor reacted quickly, firing at him again before he even hit the ground. The flier landed on his back, limbs splayed, exposed circuits crackling. He groaned once, shuddered and went offline, optics darkening.

Dragging himself to his feet, Cheetor replied, "But we sure have you guys beat when it comes to teamwork." Brushing himself off, trying not to wince visibly, he turned to his rescuer. "Thanks, Tig--"

It wasn't Tigatron.

Round yellow eyes stared back at him. The monkey's little black forepaws were wrapped around the grip of Terrorsaur's gun. The recoil must have been enough to nearly send the beast flying, thought Cheetor in a sort of shock. Then his processor put itself together and he realized the obvious, which had been nagging at him all through the fight. No animal would be able to use a blaster, let alone hit anything, except possibly by sheer dumb luck -- and the odds of that were too slim to calculate. Besides, he was pretty sure those weren't the eyes of an animal he was looking into. He knew the difference all too well.

"Hey!" he said as the realization became certainty. "We've been looking for you!"

The monkey seemed to raise an eyebrow, but didn't answer.

Tigatron's war-cry broke off the introduction. Cheetor whipped his head around in time to see Inferno crash out of sight among the trees, trailing flame and smoke -- for once not on purpose. Of Waspinator there was no sign. That wasn't too surprising; the wasp knew a hopeless fight when he saw one, and would usually withdraw if there was no one else around to push him, coming back after the shooting stopped to assess the damage and pick up the pieces. Really, he had more sense than half the other Predacons combined. Still, Cheetor kept a wary optic on the sky as Tigatron rematerialized from the trees.

"Nice work, little cat!" The tracker's shoulder was badly singed. "Inferno put up a good fight, but he finally went down -- right into the river. I found that fitting." It was then that he noticed the monkey, and his expression turned to puzzlement. "Is… is it holding a gun?"

Cheetor couldn't help laughing. "Hey, that gun just saved my tail. Say hi to our newest Maximal!" He gestured at the small primate, which sat down contentedly on its haunches and started scratching its head. Tigatron looked highly dubious.

"Erm… hi," he said uncertainly.

The monkey threw the gun aside and drew itself up on its hind legs, its head barely as high as Tigatron's waist. It chirped twice, then repeated "Hi" very clearly in a frighteningly accurate rendition of the scout's voice.

Both cats jumped, then gave a relieved laugh. "Glad to see you've got a sense of humor," said Tigatron.

"Big Bot's gonna be so happy to meet you," Cheetor added, talking quickly with excitement, his injuries all but forgotten. "He's kind of a monkey too -- you'll like him. What's your name?"

The monkey hesitated, then dropped to all fours. It grunted at them, made a whuffing sound through its cheeks, then a noise like "_raugh_". It grunted some more and then paused, looking back and forth between the two Maximals as if waiting for a response.

Cheetor frowned, wondering if maybe he'd somehow been wrong. "Err… sorry, I don't understand. Could you repeat that?"

The monkey cocked its head sharply. "Sorry, I don't understand." This time it spoke in Cheetor's voice, matching his tone and words exactly.

The two cats looked at each other, realization dawning. _Uh-oh_.

- - - - -

"There's nothing wrong with her vocalizer," Rhinox pronounced, lowering the scanner. His subject was now in robot mode, greedily gulping down a cube of energon, and hardly seemed to be paying attention to the other Maximals in the room, who also included Optimus and Cheetor.

It was Cheetor who blurted out, "_Her_ vocalizer? Really?"

Rhinox gave him the look he reserved for people who asked stupid questions at particularly stupid times. "Yes. As I was saying, _her_ vocalizer's fine. It's got to be a software problem, which really isn't surprising. These crash-landings take a heavy toll on the pods. We're lucky Tigatron only came out with an identity glitch." He started packing equipment away, rescuing a small probe from the grasp of the new Maximal, whose hands seemed to wander almost independent from her body.

"Can it be repaired?" Optimus was naturally concerned. They had rescued their comrade from the Predacons only to be confronted with a new problem.

"To be honest, I'm not even sure what's _wrong_ at this point. I'll have to run more tests, some deep scans, a full systems check. My best guess is that her language tracks are scrambled. If that's the only problem, it's easy to remedy -- I can whip up a language primer and upload it straight into her processor. On the other hand, if the damage is worse than that, there might not be anything I can do. I'm not a qualified neurosurgeon, and even if I was, I don't have the best equipment to work with."

"…I see."

"But I'll do what I can. Good news is, physically she's a picture of health. And there doesn't appear to be any processor damage other than speech-related, though it's a little hard to be sure."

The new Maximal held her now-empty cube upside-down and shook out the last few drops, watching them fall to the floor with almost child-like interest. Optimus wondered if Rhinox might be wrong about that processor damage. If not, then they apparently had one weird Maximal on their hands.

As the others talked, Cheetor's attention was riveted on the new recruit. She'd transformed herself by repeating the "Maximize!" command after watching them demonstrate a couple times. Even so, Cheetor wasn't sure how Rhinox could tell this was a fembot. Her build was closer to his own than to, say, Blackarachnia's. And she was _tiny_, even in this mode. If Rattrap had been here, there might have been a couple centimeters, at most, of height difference between them.

"What about her capabilities?" Optimus asked. He didn't like having to talk about someone as if they weren't right there, but she didn't seem to be listening anyway.

Rhinox looked over the readings he'd recorded. "Her sensornet is about as advanced as Rattrap's. She's probably designed as a scout, maybe just a data recorder. She seems to have mimicry down pat."

"Let's call her Mimic," Cheetor suggested. They both turned to stare at him. "What? We gotta call her _something_."

Optimus sighed. "Well, we'll just have to keep her here until this is figured out. She's not fit for duty right now, for obvious reasons."

"Hey, she helped me take out Terrorsaur with a piece of fruit! And his own gun!"

Primal just knew _that_ was going to be a fun mission report to read later. "Be that as it may, she's damaged. Until we fix her, she needs to stay where it's safe. And I want you to look after her."

Cheetor blinked. "Wha? Me?"

"Why not? You were the first Maximal she met."

"Yeah, but--"

"You've been helping to look for her since the pod landed."

"Well, I --"

"At least it will give you something to do."

Cheetor relented. He didn't actually mind, he was just… surprised to be asked, honestly. He wasn't generally given long-term responsibility. In this case, though, he had to admit it made sense. Optimus was always busy, and so was Rhinox. Dinobot didn't have the patience to babysit, Tigatron and Airazor were never around, and Rattrap… no. Just no.

"Alright, Big Bot. I'll show her around. Uh, those empty quarters by the cargo bay… you want me to let her pick a room, or what?"

"Whatever she wants to do. Just keep her away from anything… sensitive." Optimus glanced back toward "Mimic", who had hopped down from the examination table and seemed intent on exploring every square inch of her surroundings. She may have been a robot, but she was still behaving more like an animal. The last thing Primal wanted was for her to get into Rhinox's tools, or -- Primus forbid -- the armory.

"Got it. C'mon, Mim… you okay with that name? Cool. Let's go, let the boring 'bots talk -- Dinobot!"

Optimus spun around. Said warrior stood in the doorway, looking down at Mimic with narrowed optics. She shrank back a little behind Cheetor, possibly just afraid of Dinobot's size, more likely of his expression. He didn't look particularly happy. He had his sword out, apparently just wiping the last traces of mech fluid off of it, but that wasn't helping much with his appearance. Primal stepped forward quickly, before anything awkward could happen.

"Cheetor was just going to show our new arrival around the base. Ah, Dinobot, if you wouldn't mind--?"

Grunting in lieu of a reply, the warrior stepped aside. Cheetor took the hint and hurried past, Mimic keeping on his other side and glancing back at Dinobot in a kind of wary fascination. Optimus watched the former Predacon carefully, but he didn't seem hostile, just upset. Frustrated? Disappointed? It was damn hard to tell with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, once Cheetor and his charge had left.

Dinobot shook his head. "So much for strengthening our forces," he said ruefully.

Primal saw no point in lying to him. "It's worse than you think. She's damaged, can't seem to talk beyond repeating what we say to her. Rhinox thinks he can fix it but he isn't sure."

It would be hard for Dinobot to look more disgusted with the situation than he did. He sheathed his sword and tossed the used rag aside, disdaining to comment further.

Rhinox glanced at the remains of the cleaning cloth now lying on the floor. "Is that one of mine?"

Dinobot snorted. "If you want it back, you're welcome to it." He glared at Primal. "Have we gained _any_ tactical advantage with this new addition? Tell me at least she was armed."

"Barely," Rhinox answered for him. "A taser, and something that looks for all the world like a slingshot. Combat is clearly not what her designers had in mind."

It was only because Primal knew Dinobot so well that he was able to catch the flash of disappointment, almost sadness, that passed across his face. Then his scowl returned full force. "We have wasted much time and effort, then," he said to Primal's face, daring him to refute it.

Optimus met his optics. "Any member of our crew saved is not a waste, Dinobot. I wish you could understand that."

He looked very Predacon as he answered, "It amazes me how easily you forget that we are at war."

"I don't. Believe me." Primal sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Not anymore."

When Optimus looked up, the raptor was already striding out. He didn't bother to call after him. The brief joy and triumph he'd felt at retrieving their comrade safely was now all but extinguished by a dozen new worries and fears. He'd meant what he said to Dinobot, but all the same, he couldn't deny he too had been hoping for more.

- - - - -

**REVIEWER REPLY SECTION** (You've got questions, I've got half-baked answers. If I don't, I'll make one up on the spot.)

**andalitebandit**: Dinobot's inner monologues amuse me to no end. I love writing him arguing with himself almost as much as with the vermin.

**Nameless**: Keep an eye on the cats. You may be right… or not.

**SamanthaRose**: I wouldn't call it "foe-yay" exactly since it was entirely non-con on Cheetor's part, but there _were_ some nice creepy overtones to the scene with Tarantulas and his captive, weren't there?

**Skittles**: Gloss over? Dear god, why would anyone do that? Trauma makes for drama, and that's always fun to write. There are enough unresolved issues from the show itself to give me plenty to play with.

**Kayasuri**: I know, these reviews have got me shaking my head and cackling a little… I'm nasty, aren't I?

**Shamoosh**: Good point.

**missingrache**: I do give away some spoilers, but only to people who ask. If you want to pick at my brain, you can do it on AIM or send me an email.

**OrianPrime92**: Kink in the line? I dunno. It only seems to happen to Beast Warriors, but then, they're just about the only ones who seem to need to breathe.

**AH36**: …Or is it?


	24. Sliding Into Second

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 24)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Oh my god, is there actually SEX in this chapter? Why, it does appear so! And robot masturbation, too! What more could one ask? I know you've all waited plenty for this, so I'll shut up and let you get to readin'.

- - - - -

Rattrap was not, by habit, a heavy sleeper. It was true he could crash when he really needed to, but the state of hyper-alertness that had kept him functional for a hundred and forty-plus solarcycles of existence was almost impossible to switch off. Even dead to the world, he was almost never unconscious of his surroundings. Loud, familiar noises wouldn't even make him stir, but small changes that might signal trouble, he picked up on right away.

In this case, it was the absence of the raptor that sent tendrils of unease creeping through his recharging mind. Tired though he was, Rattrap's subconscious demanded that he wake up and make sure nothing was wrong.

Dimly, red optics flickered on. Rattrap raised his head and groaned, rubbing at the back of his neck. Slag, but Chopperface's bunk was uncomfortable. Or maybe Rattrap was just a little too used to his own, which was cushioned with all kinds of cozy--

It dawned on him then, as he sat up and looked around: the full realization that he was in Dinobot's room, in his _bed_ no less, and had been sleeping there in complete safety. He stared at the wall for a minute while that thought processed itself. Then a smile spread across his faceplates.

Of course, that still left the question as to where the scaly bastard had disappeared to. He wasn't in the room, and he clearly hadn't thought it worth the trouble to kick Rattrap out, or even wake him up. Though the spy had been pretty well out cold… actually, Dinobot probably figured he'd be sleeping the rest of the day. That would explain his leaving him here. Rattrap wouldn't likely cause any trouble if he was unconscious.

Still, it showed trust. An unusual amount of trust, for Dinobot.

_I'm bettin' he won't be gone too long, though. He ain't up to scoutin' or fightin' yet, so I doubt he's left the base. He tried to hide it earlier, but he's still all weird from what Megatron did to 'im -- Slag, to him, that was just a few _hours_ ago. I'd be out of it too._

He briefly debated going to find him, but since Dinobot was bound to come back anyway, it made more sense to wait. He could've gone any number of places, and Rattrap really didn't feel like running all around the _Axalon_.

Stretching, he turned over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arms. Uncomfortable or not, he might as well try to catch a few more winks on this thing while he was waiting…

The berth smelled like Dinobot.

Rattrap lifted his head slightly, inhaling. His olfactory sensors were much more fine-tuned than those of the average Cybertronian, and he could tell more from an aroma than most mechs could from sight. The raptor's scent was unmistakeable: part metal and part flesh, tinged always with a hint of blood and raw meat that Rattrap had once referred to as "carnivore cologne." It was sharp, exciting, sending a thrill of fear through the rodent part of his mind, a thrill that always made Rattrap feel a little crazy. That smell made him want to do dangerous things.

He lay back down, breathing it in, drowning himself in it. He could almost feel Dinobot lying beside him, the raptor's breath on the back of his neck. A shiver ran the length of his body.

Rattrap didn't think. Maybe because he was tired. Maybe because he'd been alone for so long. At the vivid memory, the almost-real sensation of warmth and strength beside him, he made a little hungry sound and pressed back. His fingers, of their own accord, began to trail lazily over his plating. He pictured wicked curved claws in their place: running down his arms, across his abdomen, over the curves of his hips. He imagined their sharp points scraping his sensors, digging into his seams as the long hands wrapped themselves possessively around his body…

A small surge of energy swept through him without warning, making him shudder uncontrollably. The spy gasped. Instead of stopping, he sped up, striving to overstimulate the surface sensors through contact alone. His mind was full of images of sharp teeth, glowering optics, long deadly hands that moved with what should have been impossible precision. A growl echoed in his audios, an insult layered with affection and possessiveness and frustrated hunger: _"Vermin."_

He squealed, a thin breathless sound, and writhed on the berth. He was almost tearing at himself now, ignoring the flashes of pain as his fingers raked raw nerves, seeking a point of absolute bliss where the rest of the world would fall away and all he would know, all he would feel, was…

_Oh, Primus_…

The scent, the thought of _his_ voice, and Rattrap's own touch proved too much for his processor to handle. It let go. For a moment he seemed to float, his body disconnected from all sensation, and then a second wave crashed over him, much stronger than the first. His entire sensornet lit up for a fraction of a second that seemed to stretch forever. The spy whimpered incoherently and blacked out.

Less than ten seconds later, he rebooted. His head was spinning and he tingled all over. His respiration was slowing but still twice as fast as normal, and his circuits crackled with electrical discharges. The room smelled of hot metal and ozone.

…_Wow. Must've really needed that_.

He flopped on his back again and lay for a minute trying to cool off, waiting for the ceiling to stop whirling above his head. Even by his standards, that experience had been pretty intense. Self-stimulation took a variety of forms among Cybertronians, but achieving a full overload with nothing but your hands and your imagination was one of the more difficult ones. Rattrap couldn't even manage it normally, but he'd gone without for a while, and…

It was almost scary what Dinobot could do to him, even without being there.

As his sense of normalcy returned, he slowly sat up. Things tilted a bit, then stabilized. His limbs felt like they were attached to his body by rubber bands. He looked down and saw faint marks where he'd raked himself, thankfully none that had broken through the paint -- he'd have never been able to hide that. Strangely, he felt a little less tired than before. The overload seemed to have done him more good than the nap.

_Well now, Chopperface. Since I've already gone an' defiled your room, I may as well do a little snoopin' while I'm here. In fer a cube, in fer a shipment_. He slid off the berth and stood, still a little wobbly.

He wasn't actually planning on doing much snooping. He just wanted to look around, since he hadn't really had a chance to before, and see the sort of place Dinobot called home. Not that there was much to see. Mostly it was exactly as he would expect -- quite spartan, the walls bare except for the trophy hide and a few weapons racks, the floor entirely clear except for a desk and chair at one end of the room (even the berth was set into the wall). There was none of the comfortable clutter that decorated his own quarters. And it was ridiculously dark. Based on what he'd seen of the _Darksyde_, Rattrap concluded that most Predacons liked the dark. Apparently that trait didn't disappear upon changing sides.

The only personal items in the room appeared to be combat-related, which wasn't exactly surprising. The weapons racks held a couple of smaller swords, a spare shield, a fair-sized blaster. Rattrap thought the blaster looked familiar… then he realized it was from the Maximal armory. That threw him for a loop. Why would Dinobot hide a gun in his room when there were plenty in the base within easy reach? Unless he'd stolen it shortly after he joined, just to be ready in case his newfound allies decided to turn on him.

Rattrap shivered. That truly sounded like Dinobot logic, there. How long had he been with the Maximals before he stopped expecting betrayal at any moment?

_Probably about as long as it took me to trust him_, he chastised himself inwardly. Well, he wouldn't bring it up with Dinobot. If the warrior wanted to stock his room with an entire arsenal, that was his business. No doubt he had his reasons.

As Rattrap turned to check out the desk, he noticed a punching bag hanging up in the corner. He actually laughed out loud -- he'd never seen it before. _Primus knows where he got _that_. Figures he'd need an outlet for frustration, though. I'm surprised it don't have my name written on it_.

He did take a closer look, just to be sure. No writing, nor claw marks or sword slashes or anything other than a few scuffs. Rattrap whistled. This thing was either brand-new or a testament to Dinobot's self-control, he wasn't sure which. Then again, maybe it just didn't see a lot of use. Not like the warrior didn't have plenty of Predacons to practice on, after all.

The spy socked the bag lightly, playfully, and drew back with a curse. It felt like it was full of cement. _Note to self: products intended for raptors may be harmful to rats_.

Shaking the ache out of his hand, he finally turned his attention to Dinobot's personal computer, the sole and solitary item on his desk. It, like the accomodations themselves, had been a gift from the Maximals. Rattrap wondered how much he actually used it. There were a few scratches on the surface of the desk, possibly the mark of bored claws, but no datapads or anything lying around. Whatever information Dinobot kept, it was probably all on here…

Rattrap was actually flipping open the laptop before he caught himself. His actions weren't surprising; he was a spy, after all. He was a spy as Dinobot was a warrior: always had been and would be, regardless of his current occupation. Snooping and sneaking came so naturally he seldom even thought about it, and he had little to no compunction about prying into others' secrets, even his friends -- Pit, he had plenty of dirt on Rhinox. This time, though, was different. Dinobot was a very private person. He no doubt regarded his personal computer as he did his personal space, as something not to be violated. Even if he never found out, Rattrap would have to live with knowing that the first time the warrior showed him this level of trust, he had betrayed it.

_Well, it serves him right for trusting you, Ransack_, whispered a nasty, furtive voice scratching at the back walls of his mind._ After all, anyone who's known you as long as he has oughtta know better_.

He winced as if someone might've heard the thought. It wasn't like he wanted to look for blackmail material. Really, all he wanted were some answers. There were a lot of things Dinobot had never told him, had never told _any_ of them despite being on their side for well over a year. They didn't know what he'd done before working for Megatron, where he came from, who his mentor was, or even if Dinobot was his original name. His record was the most scant out of all the six Predacons, containing only basic vital statistics and a short criminal history going back a few decades. Rattrap had been over it at least a dozen times. Most of his life was apparently just a big blank, and curiosity was eating the spy alive. If there was even a possibility Dinobot kept some of those secrets on here…

_An' what if he's hidin' something? What if I find something I didn't wanna see? Slag, what if I try to hack his password an' the damn thing explodes the first time I hit the wrong key? Chopperface is paranoid enough, an' if there's one thing he knows, it's security_.

For a long moment he stared at the screen, indecisive, hating himself for his temptation, as a recovering addict might contemplate a stim cartridge. And then, slowly, he closed the computer. He didn't know if he was doing it out of respect for Dinobot's privacy or fear of what would happen if he was caught, but it didn't matter. He'd been handed temptation on a golden platter, and he'd resisted.

Honestly, he deserved a medal.

The door opened, and Rattrap's reaction was instinctive. He dove down behind the desk before whoever was entering had a chance to see him. Almost immediately he felt foolish, because there was only one person it could be, and _him_ Rattrap had no need to hide from. Of course, jumping up and revealing himself now would be bound to start an awkward line of questioning. Especially given what he'd just been thinking of doing…

Heavy footsteps clunked over to the desk, and the chair creaked suddenly under the weight that was dropped on it. Dinobot could move quietly when he needed to, but if he wasn't actively trying, it was impossible _not_ to hear him. The computer booted up, and Rattrap breathed a sigh of relief that he'd been able to talk himself out of messing with it.

Still, he doubted the warrior would appreciate someone skulking hidden in his room, no matter how in-character it was. Slowly, Rattrap stood up. "Hey, uh, welcome--"

The point of Dinobot's sword hovered under his chin before the sentence was anywhere near finished. Rattrap did a very good job of not wincing, in his own opinion. _Okay, I shoulda figured somethin' like that'd happen. Serves me right_. "--back," he finished, easing back a little as the sword was whipped away and sheathed.

"This should not become a habit, vermin." Dinobot studied him with narrowed eyes, not even bothering to hide his suspicion. "What are you doing back there?"

Rattrap tried not to feel affronted. He had no right to, after all. But he couldn't quite keep the bitter sarcasm out of his voice when he answered. "Eh, woke up an' you were gone, didn't leave a note or nothin', so I figured you was comin' back. Got bored starin' at the ceilin' an' thought I'd check the place out. Admired the decorations, went a couple rounds with that bag o' concrete you keep over there -- it won, by the way -- an' nearly got eaten by that thing you tacked up on your wall. I swear, it oughtta be in a cage or somethin'."

Dinobot's expression relaxed slightly, and Rattrap swore the corner of his mouth twitched, but didn't rise. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes," he said. He dropped his optics to the screen and began typing. A moment later he said in a flat tone, without looking up, "We have a new Maximal, by the way."

At first the spy wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Then his Spark skipped a pulse and his fuel tank seemed to drop out of him. "Really? Y'mean… they found the protoform?"

Dinobot nodded, still not looking up. Rattrap could've danced from the euphoria that swept through him at the news, but he sensed something wrong. Containing himself, he tried to catch Dinobot's optics, to read his expression. "Why don't you sound happy about it?"

The warrior's typing trailed off, and his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. "She cannot speak, and has no combat capability. Strategically, we have gained nothing except another consumer of resources. I see no reason to celebrate."

_Aah. Figures. Nothin' ever goes that easy for us_. "Well, that… kinda bites," Rattrap admitted. "Still, I'm sure Rhinox can fix her."

"Even then, I doubt she will be of much use." The raptor scowled at the screen. "I was hoping for a military asset. That was the point of this operation, was it not?"

"It woulda been nice, but… least we saved one of our own from the Preds. I mean, that's what really matters, right?"

Dinobot snorted cynically. "So Optimus tried to tell me. I'm glad he feels so optimistic about our situation. Myself, I would kill for a mech with some military or even security experience."

Rattrap offered him a half-smile. "Thought that was what we kept you around for." When Dinobot didn't respond to the backhanded compliment, the spy made his way around the corner of the desk to the sitting warrior, who was almost as tall as Rattrap standing. "Seriously, what's the matter? You ain't this upset 'cause of our tactical situation. Somethin's eatin' ya." He rested his hand on a scaly shoulder. "C'mon, tell me."

Dinobot was trying hard to look annoyed by the questions. "Even if there is, why should I _want_ to tell you?"

"That's what your mouth says, but your optics tell another story. They beg for understandin', cry out for a sympathetic ear…"

The warrior shoved him backwards, not hard -- actually a playful gesture by their standards. Rattrap chuckled and leaned on the side of the desk, getting back into Dinobot's personal space, propping his chin on his arms. "Kiddin' aside, I'm listenin'. Really. Don't be stubborn."

"Never mind. It is of no consequence."

"Then it can't hurt to tell me."

"_Who's_ being stubborn?"

Rattrap let out an exaggerated sigh. "Chopperfaaaaace…" he whined, taking the last resort. Dinobot rolled his optics.

"I am merely tired of being the only actual warrior in a band of explorers, technicians, and… whatever the Pit you are. There are times I long for like-minded company. Since leaving my own kind, that is the only thing I've really missed." Dinobot's optics were trained on the desk, not looking up to meet Rattrap's. "At first, I admit I rather relished the position. Being needed, respected for my battle prowess once again… it had been a long time since I felt such purpose. But the glory was short-lived. This group needs more fighting strength -- I alone am not enough. And that is becoming more and more obvious."

"You're lonely," Rattrap translated. He should've figured it out sooner. "Slag, Chopperface…"

He reached for Dinobot again and rubbed at the pebbly skin of one arm, a gesture of reassurance he half-expected to be rejected. He wasn't expecting his own arm to be grabbed, and to be hauled with dizzying speed into Dinobot's lap, almost weightless in the grasp of a mech who could easily twist him in half. He didn't expect to wind up face-to-face with the saurian, one scaly hand cupped under his aft for support, the other still gripping his wrist, looping Rattrap's arm around his neck to secure his position. It all happened so fast that the spy dropped his thoughts and had to grope around for them on the floor of his processor.

"What… makes you think that?" Dinobot asked, smirking.

His harsh growl of a voice was softened, stumbling over itself slightly as if it wasn't used to being strained in this fashion. Rattrap's fingers felt the vibration where they rested on his broad chest, felt the cycling of the warrior's vents and the pulse of his fuel system speeding up, and his entire small body started trembling in sympathetic excitement. The hunger in the Predacon's optics left no doubt as to what he was doing. "Call it… a hunch," he whispered.

He wasn't sure what the raptor wanted _him_ to do, but his free hand moved of its own accord, coming up to stroke the smooth cobalt plating of Dinobot's face. Red optics brightened briefly in surprise, then dimmed as light fingertips traced the chiseled cheek ridges, brow, nose, and chin. They followed the line of the warrior's thin lips, which parted, allowing Rattrap to slide first one digit, then two, then three past the dental death-trap into Dinobot's mouth. The raptor himself was not idle, for while one hand continued to support Rattrap from beneath, the other was skimming up his side to explore the chromed sphere of his shoulder joint and the half-exposed cables of his neck.

Rattrap was struck by a sudden, acute sense of vulnerability -- his hand halfway inside a predator's jaws, sharp claws probing between his jaw and the protective ring of his collar. He knew the danger he was in, and he loved every minute of it. Moreover, he was well aware of how much Dinobot needed to be in control of the situation right now, and was all too happy to let him.

He couldn't hold back a gasp when Dinobot's teeth closed on his fingers, not hard, but slowly increasing the pressure until it was right on the point of pain. Then they relaxed, and when he did not withdraw his hand, slowly closed on it again. Rattrap fought to hold himself still, wanting to writhe as the maddeningly sensitive digits were methodically gnawed on by a now amused-looking raptor. The claws toying with his neck pricked slightly -- whether on accident or on purpose, he didn't know -- and he squeaked, making the scaly bastard chuckle.

_Oh, yeah? Well, two can play at that game, Dinobreath_.

He leaned closer, diminishing the tiny gap between them until his mouthplates found metal. He scraped the tips of his incisors against Dinobot's cheek, nipping his face in reciprocation as the chewing of his fingers became more insistent. Dinobot growled low in his throat, the vibration barely transmuting to sound, most of it caught inside his chestplate and traveling through the components of Rattrap's body. The spy nibbled lower, small teasing bites moving down his jawline a bit before decending to his neck and shoulder. When he nuzzled into the joint between the two, he felt the warrior tense.

Then he bit. Not hard, but at a spot where even a little nip should make anyone jump.

Dinobot jerked, and his jaws closed with considerably greater force than before. Rattrap let out a muffled squeal against his neck as the points of the razor-sharp triangles pierced his armor. He didn't pull back; instead, he turned the nip into a caress, dental ridges just barely brushing where he'd bitten, sending tremors through the warrior's body as Dinobot fought for control. His combat reflexes must have been going insane. Rattrap reveled in the thought of what he was doing to him, the idea that he was driving the warrior mad with the lightest touch…

Without warning he found himself jerked away, Dinobot's hand wrapped around his chin. The Predacon was scowling at him, letting Rattrap's fingers slip from his mouth. "Clearly, this isn't going to work."

The spy's Spark sank, and he knew he'd blown it again. Slaggit, every time they even got close…

He let out a surprised yelp as Dinobot stood, slinging the rat over his shoulder. For a second he thought he was about to get tossed out of the room, literally, but then Dinobot stopped at his berth and set Rattrap down. Very confused, the smaller mech found himself being pushed onto his back as the Predacon loomed over him, holding him firmly by both shoulders. "I can't do anything if you're not going to hold still," the raptor growled. "I suppose I'll just have to pin you to the berth, then."

Dazed, Rattrap felt his face light up as his Spark leapt back up into its rightful place. "Yeah," he concurred. "Guess you'll have to do that."

Dinobot smiled, showing white daggers, and leaned down. His teeth met Rattrap's neck in that _same place_ as a squeal shattered the stillness of the warrior's retreat.

- - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: THESE TWO ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. *Throws pen at them* You rutting Maximals are the reason I can never get anything else done! I put off schoolwork to write you groping, I hope you're happy!

Ahem. So people seem to like Mimic… that's good. Next chapter will have a bit more of Mimic, and a lot more sex (no, the two are not related). So I know everybody will read it, at least. As to how far these two get this time… eh, not telling.

**Cu-Curee**: Dinobot scares the crap out of everybody. It's a healthy reaction.

**andalitebandit-6**: She's not crazy, she's just a little unwell. And everyone serves some purpose in the Beast Wars, not to worry.

**meteor prime**: True, Optimus Minor was a monkey, but this is an Original Character (hence the warning). I actually didn't find out there was a monkey 'former until after her creation, though it didn't surprise me too much.

**MJFastlane**: De-lurkers make me smile. Nice to meet you.

There's already a great in-universe way to introduce new characters in Beast Wars, so that part was easy. Actually, the whole thing was pretty easy. I didn't so much create her as she waltzed in, basically fully-formed, and handed me a job application. She's funny and cute and doesn't seem to be a projection of myself as near as I can tell, and she was too well fleshed-out to turn down, so I let her come aboard. She probably won't be the only OC in the story, but she has that distinction for a while at least.

I look forward to your future reviews. Even short ones are better than none.


	25. Not A Creature Was Stirring

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 25)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Blame school. Also, blame my lack of experience writing actual serious sex scenes. Do not ask how many times I had to rewrite this chapter. I think it was worth it; we'll see what public opinion says to that.

(Warnings this chapter for heavy abuse of Rattrap… and ellipses.)

- - - - -

"--And this is my room. You can come in, but it's kind of a mess… o-kay. Never mind, just make yourself at home."

Mimic (who had reverted to beastmode) bounded in before Cheetor had even finished the sentence, looking around, moving from one item of interest to another. She seemed unable to sit still for more than two seconds. Cheetor winced when she grabbed a datapad he'd left lying on his desk and brought it to her mouth, but she only sniffed it and cast it aside, quickly losing interest. He retrieved it from the floor, then picked up two or three other small items that swiftly followed it… "Whoa, hey! That's my stuff, okay? Be careful."

She paused -- finally -- and gave him a quizzical look. Obviously she knew he was telling her something, but couldn't understand. Cheetor sighed and set his junk back on the desk. "It's okay. I trash this place pretty good sometimes myself. Here, you want something to do, I got some games you can play."

He called up a fairly simple game on one of the datapads, the sort he might play during a boring shift of monitor duty. When he handed it to Mimic, she immediately became transfixed by the colorful graphics and started pressing buttons, seemingly at random. Cheetor tried to show her what the object of the game was and how to play, but she turned her back on him and resumed figuring it out on her own. He shrugged. _Suit yourself_. "I'll be over here if you need me," he told the indifferent primate, and headed for his dispenser.

He needed to recharge, badly. The problem was that, between Mimic and Tigatron, his processor was running nonstop in circles. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to relax anytime soon. At least he could refuel, though. He hadn't been lying to Tigatron about his reserves being low, though he had managed to catch a couple of rodents and a lizard that afternoon. Organic fuel did the job, just did it slower and didn't yield quite as much energy.

He filled a cup of energon and drank it sitting on the edge of his berth, watching his new friend. The sight brought him a little bit of reassurance. At least something had gone right for once. His chest still twinged where Terrorsaur'd hit him, but his internal repairs were already underway, and Rhinox had already determined the injury wouldn't require time in a tank. All in all, he could've paid a much higher price for what he brought back.

He was thankful that Optimus, while quite obviously proud of him, had decided not to embarrass him this time by gushing about it. Three days ago, when he'd almost single-handedly saved Rattrap and Rhinox, both the engineer and Primal had heaped praise on him while he stared at the floor and mumbled that it really wasn't such a big deal. He hadn't had time to think about being a hero then; he'd just done what he had to do. Any Maximal would. They only seemed to think it worth mentioning because _he_ did it, and to Cheetor, that said more bad things than good. He wanted to be somebody they could expect this sort of thing from all the time. Nobody fell over themselves praising Dinobot for holding off Megatron by himself while getting the slag beaten out of him. They didn't treat Rattrap any different since he got himself barbecued swiping Tarantulas's plans. Cheetor used to feel starved for praise, but now he just wondered why everyone was so amazed every time he did something right.

Honestly, he'd been more pleased with Rattrap's reaction. The spy had thanked him sincerely… and then immediately gone back to teasing him, saying that this didn't mean he owed the kid one after all the times he'd saved Cheetor's hide. That statement made them feel almost equal. It was refreshing.

A sudden clatter drew him back to the present. Mimic had tossed aside the datapad and was standing on her hind legs to look at the posters Cheetor had tacked up on the walls. She seemed to be slowing down, thank Primus. It occurred to the feline to wonder if she'd gotten any sleep out in the wild. She had just as much reason to be worn out as any of them did.

"Hey, uh… Mim?" Wide yellow eyes looked at him. "I can show you your own room now, if you wanna rest or something."

Right on cue, she yawned. Cheetor smiled and stretched a little in sympathy. "Yeah, okay. Good plan." He stood, and Mimic followed him out of the room without protest.

He kept talking as he led the way down the corridor, knowing she probably couldn't understand a word, but not wanting to seem too unfriendly with silence. Anyway, it wasn't as if he ever needed much excuse to talk. "We were running with a skeleton crew when we crashed, so there're plenty of empty rooms. We use a couple for storage, but there's not much to store, really. You can bunk wherever. Guess it should probably be close to my room, though, so I can sorta keep an eye on you." He glanced back at her. She seemed to be listening and trying to look at everything all at once. Her eyes were all over the place. Cheetor chuckled a little. She looked like him the first time he'd set foot on a ship, and it made him feel older and like a kid again at the same time.

"Here, this one'll work. It's… well, it's almost empty, anyway." There were a couple of supply crates in a corner of the room in question, but they didn't seem to hold anything important or dangerous, and at least they provided a little decoration. The bare floor and sterile walls didn't look very warm and inviting, certainly not for the inquisitive new Maximal. But it would do for now. She could put whatever she wanted in it later.

Cheetor turned back to Mimic. "Well?" he said hopefully. "You like it okay?"

She seemed to understand at least the meaning of the question. She looked down at the dusty floor, scuffing it with a toe, then walked over to the nearest open supply crate and peered in. Finally she looked back at Cheetor and shrugged.

"Uh… is that a yes?"

There was no further response. The vervet monkey leaned over and started rummaging through the contents of the crate, ignoring him again. Cheetor sighed. "Okay, I guess you'll be busy for a while. Just let me know if you need anything." He turned and left, the sounds of digging and of clattering objects following him down the corridor.

It wasn't until he was back in his own room that he realized just how tired he was. Looking around at the mess Mimic had left, he decided it could wait until later. He transformed, hopped onto his bunk and flopped down. One of the great things about having a cat mode was that he could get comfortable in almost any position. Forelegs folded under his chin, tail hanging off the edge of the berth, he let his eyes close and felt his processor start to drift.

He must have dozed off for only a few minutes when he was awakened by movement. Something pressed against his flank, startling him once he regained his senses. He jerked his head up to find Mimic curled up next to him.

"Huh? What? You need something?"

She just stared back, then yawned again, showing large canine teeth. She was lying in a pose approximating his own, hindlegs bunched up and forelimbs stretched out in front. It looked pretty comfortable… Wait.

Cheetor sighed. "You've got your own room, remember?"

This time he could swear Mimic understood. She frowned and glanced away from him, tail curling tight around her body. Cheetor's Spark softened. "I mean, if you're lonely, I can understand that. You've been out there on your own since the crash…" He trailed off. She still wasn't looking at him, and she wasn't leaving either. He thought of the monkeys, the real monkeys that lived in the valley where she'd been staying. They never slept alone. He'd seen them a couple of times at night, huddled in the trees in little clusters, almost invisible. He wondered if they'd let her join them, or if she'd had to sleep by herself…

Finally he made a decision, curling his own tail around both of them. Mimic churred happily and reached out to scratch the fur on his shoulder. Cheetor tried not to give in to the smile that tugged at his muzzle.

"Just to warn you, though," he told her, "I snore."

A few minutes later, both Maximals were snoring as if in competition.

- - - - -

Dinobot all but nailed Rattrap to the berth with his claws, drawing another piercing squeal as they punctured armor. Instead of protesting, the spy arched into him and pulled Dinobot's head down so that those long teeth could sink into his neck again. Already the thick rubber sheathing that protected his throat cables was torn, and exposed wiring sparked as it brushed the gnashing fangs, sending Rattrap's body into spasms. He was panting, uttering low needy sounds and shrill whines that bore no resemblance to speech, rather vocalizations of raw feeling. The warrior responded in kind, snarling loud enough to reverberate through the vermin's entire frame.

Neither one was thinking. In Dinobot's case, thinking would lead to doubt and hesitation, or a trip down memory lane which he was anxious to avoid. Instead he bit and clawed, crushed the small body beneath him, focused on the sharp flashes of sensation that jolted him every time Rattrap moved. There was certainly plenty to focus on -- clawed feet raking his hips, slender fingers jabbing into his arms for a hold, keen metal incisors nipping his face and helm and whatever else was in reach. He bit back, catching them momentarily in a mouth-lock that was less a kiss than a contest. His fangs left silvery gouges in the coppery metal of the spy's face, and energon leaked from from his own lip as Rattrap bit through it. The flash of pain was just another sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant but _strong_, intense, distracting. Just what he needed.

_That's it, take him! Take what you want! You've waited long enough -- DEVOUR him!_

For once, he didn't stop to argue with the inner voice. The Predacon warrior in him was fully aroused, the velociraptor in him maddened by his prey's squeals. Whatever small, sensible part of his mind might have raised an objection was utterly drowned out. He tasted mech fluid and instead of pulling back, plunged savagely on.

Rattrap did nothing to resist this. Indeed, his body language screamed encouragement, urging the saurian to ravage him. Not content with mere submission, he participated actively in his own mauling, retaliating just enough to bring a fiercer assault upon himself.

When his fingers slipped under the ring of armor that protected Dinobot's shoulder, digging deep into sensitive wiring, the raptor nearly bit his face off. Growling, Dinobot jerked his head back and raked Rattrap's chestplate with his claws, leaving visible wounds. The spy cried out and arched up off the berth, scrabbling at Dinobot's chest in response.

"_Yeah!_" he burst out. "Tear me the frag _up!_" His desire reeked, an intoxicating blend of hot wiring and musky fur. "C'mon, smelt you, make the filthy little Pred-lover scream!"

The words -- which had the ring of a challenge or command, not a plea -- inflamed the warrior's excitement, overriding what little restraint he still possessed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he sensed that they were _calculated_ to do so, and a tiny mental alarm began to sound. The Predacon within him tried to drown it out, leaping up and snarling, _You heard the vermin! Don't hold back -- show him what you REALLY are!_

"Be _quiet!_" he snapped aloud, to both himself and Rattrap. He clamped a hand over the spy's mouth, holding the incendiary words at bay, his fingers nearly encircling the spy's head.

Rattrap bit him.

Lightning pain flashed through his hand, the pinch of sharp metal incisors as sudden and shocking as a betrayal. Dinobot roared, and the sound rolled through both mechs' bodies like thunder. He slammed Rattrap's head down against the berth and bit back, blindly. His fangs met in one of the rat-ears protruding from the furry chestplate, slicing through it with alarming ease. The spy bucked violently underneath him and screamed into his hand.

_YES! Destroy the little beast!_

But another voice sounded: _No, STOP. You're not in control. Pull back, now!_

He tried, releasing the now nearly-severed ear and rearing back. "Rattrap…"

"Don't go!" came a desperate plea. The rat's slim legs wrapped around his waist in a death-grip, his fingers latching onto the rim of Dinobot's chestplate with painful force. "Don't stop _now_, ya big stinkin' lizard! Finish what you started!"

He pulled himself up to press against Dinobot, maximizing contact, squirming to overstimulate the surface sensors on their beastmode flesh. The friction of fur and scales was an exquisite fire. Dinobot could have pushed him off, could have torn free, but his body ached with hunger for the long-awaited touch, and his instincts clamored. For once, doubt and uncertainty had little hold on him; there was only want and need and an eager, wiling victim…

"All right." The words were hot gravel in his throat. "All _right_."

His claws gripped the rat's midsection firmly, digging into the seams of his waist, nicking wires as the spy's body twitched and shivered tantalizingly. Rising to his knees, Dinobot lifted him up and shoved him against the wall, one hand under his seat for support, leaving the other free. He dragged his talons up and down Rattrap's flank, savoring the way he writhed in torment and the near-ultrasonic cries of pleasure and pain, then bent to mouth the ear he'd all but ripped off a moment ago. The taste of mech fluid was electric, and he lapped at the torn flesh, tasting the prey he'd pursued for so long. Rattrap groaned loudly, arching his whole body into it, as eager to be devoured as the raptor was to devour him. Words spilled from him with abandon.

"Take it, c'mon, I know ya want it, just take it…"

Past the point of being able to articulate speech, his mouth full of bleeding vermin, Dinobot only growled in reply. Releasing the tattered ear, he moved to take a firmer grip on the chromed ball-joint of Rattrap's shoulder. The armor here was much thicker than on his fingers, resistant to the raptor's fangs. Slowly, agonizingly, they punctured metal as he bit down. Rattrap was shuddering, his legs squeezing painfully tight around Dinobot's midsection, fingertips burrowing under the seams of the scaly chestplate. Dinobot pressed into him more firmly, crushing the rodent against the wall, thrilled by his fragility, by the sheer diminutive size of him. _He's yours!_ cried the Inner Predacon. _Do not hesitate! Claim him NOW!_

It had been some time since he'd connected with another. No matter. Interfacing didn't require much experience, or even conscious thought. Dinobot hardly noticed the transfer cable extending from his body to Rattrap's.

He noticed once the link was established, though. Primus, did he _ever_.

Instantly the spy's sensornet bombarded him with signals, overwhelming his buffers, flooding his processor with

(_light sound smell taste heat friction pleasure PAIN_)

too much to take at once. Rattrap's body seemed to be one great sensor node, so fine-tuned Dinobot didn't see how anybody could stand it. Moonlight was as bright as sunlight, a whisper as loud as a shout, and a breeze registered as strongly as a slap. It was maddening. As for the teeth gouging into his shoulder… Dinobot almost collapsed on the berth from the intensity of it.

His legs shook; he sagged against the wall. Rattrap was crying out shrilly, and Dinobot's free hand fumbled over his mouth, out of a dim fear in the back of his processor that they might somehow be heard. The rodent bit him again, but he hardly felt it this time. The pain was only a drop in a river of sensations…

_light_

… stars going nova behind his optics, even as he shut them off to cut down on the barrage of stimuli…

_sound_

… a growl like the ominous rumble of a volcano, less a sound than a vibration running through their very circuits…

_smell_

… the sharp reek of excitement, of predator and prey, overlying a lingering hint of a previous overload…

_taste_

… mech fluid running into both of their mouths, the subtly different tastes overlapping as their perceptions blurred and merged into one…

_heat_

… condensation collecting on their armor as steam hissed from their vents…

_friction_

… hot metal against metal, fur clashing with scale in a riotous battle of texture…

_pleasure_

… surges of ecstasy leaping from one to the other and back again across the link, an endless feedback loop, growing ever more intense as new sensations fed into it…

_PAIN_

… the grating of his own fangs against torn metal, the rasp and scrape of his claws on the vermin's face as sharp incisors bit his fingers down to the wires, the strength and weight of his own body crushing him against the wall… sensations of helplessness, of blind and willing surrender, total submission to a force of death and dismemberment.

Dinobot and Rattrap no longer existed. There was only a single organism now, housed in two bodies which allowed it to be in two places at once, giving and taking, acting and reacting. It tore at itself in abandon as pain and pleasure reached a point where they could no longer be distinguished. Electricity crackled over the surface of its body; the air around it snapped and hummed. It cried out through two vocalizers simultaneously as hyperstimulated sensors reached the point of release.

The overload, like the act of coupling itself, was brief and brutal. Dinobot fell to the berth, dragging Rattrap with him, and they lay in a tangle of limbs as their bodies shuddered and thrashed, out of control. The spy was trying to scream, but could only utter a few faint, shrill cries. The warrior was eerily silent. A few violent surges later it was over, leaving them shivering and twitching like mechs recovering from a lightning strike.

It seemed like hours passed before Dinobot regained self-awareness. The first thing he noticed was the taste of mech fluid that by now he was sure would never leave his mouth. His teeth had slipped out of Rattrap's shoulder sometime during the convulsions of overload, but his jaw ached from the force it had exerted. Hearing the rodent's rapid, slightly uneven respiration close beside him, he brightened his optics to their normal setting.

The sight was like a slap in the face.

"Rattrap!"

Dimly the spy looked back up at him. Mech-blood oozed from numerous thin, jagged gouges in the metal of his face and jaw. More welled from a rip in his neck, where a few sparking wires were faintly visible. His right shoulder was a mess, armor pierced and crumpled and to expose mangled circuitry, and his beastmode's right ear hung off of him in shreds. Long, parallel gashes ran down his furry chestplate, baring the metal substructure, and similar slashes marred his sides and hips. The room reeked of Maximal blood. Though the overload had worn off, he was shivering, and his optics flickered alarmingly.

"Mmm, Ch-Chopperface… that was… really good…"

With a thump, his head fell to the berth as his optics went completely dark.

- - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Uh-oh.

Don't worry, Rattrap's been through worse. Though I hate to think what Rhinox will have to say. "I told you so," for starters.

Of _course_ the first time they had sex was a disaster. That's what happens when you add two characters of questionable sanity and a sadistic author. Besides, it was Rattrap's turn for repairs.

For those of you wondering, Rattrap is indeed masochistic, but it's not the only way he can have fun. His reasons for acting the way he did in this chapter are complicated, and I'll do my best to have it explained later. Stay with me.

Yeah, they have tongues. They'd make a mess eating anything in robot mode without 'em. They don't look much like our tongues, I'd imagine (have to imagine, because there were none in the animation, probably because they would've been a pain to animate). But yes, Dinobot can lick Rattrap's wounds. Because I'm the writer, and I said so.

And they have self-guiding interface cables. Having to fumble around and plug them in manually would ruin the mood. If Megatron's evil Spark-snatching tentacle can wave around on its own, so can these. Nyah.

Now, for the questions-and-comments section that's half as long as this chapter:

**Cu-Curee**: As you can see, the foreplay was nothing.

**SamanthaRose**: Never be too nervous to post something. Most of the best writers are highly self-critical and embarrassed by their own work. It's a good sign, trust me.

**MJFastlane**: Rattrap gets off on a lot of things. In fairness to him, he's gone without for a while. Self-stimulation is all he's had.

Here's more robot sex that hopefully makes sense. I'll have you know the points were delicious, and made a lovely salad.

It's a damn good thing he didn't hack it. That would've completely derailed the story.

Not a typo. Sharp eye!

I love feedback, and yours was very enjoyable. Please don't stop. :)

**Panur**: Mimic is a vervet monkey, _Chlorocebus pygerythrus_. They're pretty common over most of Africa, south of the Sahara. Clever little things, and verbal too -- they actually make different alarm calls for different threats, like a chattering noise for snakes and so forth. Very awesome.

**Kayasuri-n**: By the time Dinobot noticed, they were having a good old time. I doubt he would've cared, though. A year ago, he might've smited the rodent for it (hell, just for being in his room), but not now.

**andalitebandit-6**: It's a bit less ambiguous now, I'm afraid. Writing botcock makes me laugh too hard. I went with something a bit more techie, but hopefully still easy to identify with.

The "stillness" refers to how quiet Dinobot's quarters usually are. Not so loud when he's making Rattrap scream on the bed. :P

**Ember Koramin**: Eighteen passwords?! Man, I don't even have a funny remark for that. THANK you.

**.machina**: I think the semi-masochistic overtones just turned into no-holds-barred HurtsSoGood!Sex. Count on Rattrap and Dinobot not to do anything halfway.

**Dragowolf**: It's not really full of concrete, it just feels like that to Rattrap. I don't know what it's filled with. I'm not sure I want to.

**Sneer**: Yeah, it bothered me that that whole thing was just kind of overlooked. Cheetor had to be messed up from that. I decided that he was, and he just hid it. But now it's starting to rear its ugly head.

**ocean's pebble**: I think this answers your question.

**Fayola**: Next time, maybe less giving in to primal desires, more safeword?

**FluffyBiscuits**: Well, he did leave teeth marks…

Mimic can fight pretty well in her own, special way. Dinobot's not giving her enough credit. But he's like that with everybody, it's nothing personal.

**lying mongoose**: Hopefully you won't get as pathologically addicted to it as I have. It's a curse, I tell you. Day and night, the muses won't leave me alone. (I warn you, Rattrap and Dinobot are at least as gay in the show as I make them out to be. I may have actually toned them down.)


	26. Love Hurts, Love Scars

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 26)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: This chapter should be rated A for angst. The first part is pure drama. The second half contains violence, non-con (implied), and the portrayal of a very unhealthy relationship… you know, typical fanfiction. (Seriously though folks, if you're easily triggered, stop when you get to the flashback.)

- - - - -

At times Primal wondered if he were in command of a kindergarten. Then he'd change his mind and decide it was a frat house. Then there were days it felt more like a circus, and occasionally he could swear he was on the set of a holodrama…

Today, when he heard Rhinox and Dinobot shouting at each other, the mystery was finally solved.

_I'm in charge of the Pit_.

He raced to find out what the matter was, only to come in on a scene straight out of his recurrent anxiety dreams. Rhinox was confronting Dinobot, who held the limp form of Rattrap in his powerful arms. The spy looked like he'd gone a round with Megatron. There was a lot of mech fluid, and obvious bite marks, and distinctive triple claw slashes that clearly pinpointed the culprit. The expression on Dinobot's face sealed that conclusion. The warrior was laden with guilt.

"Please, just let me take him to the CR chamber--"

"I don't think so. Haven't you done enough?" Rhinox reached out to yank the small burden from Dinobot's grasp. Clawed hands flexed emptily in midair, the warrior staring down at them as if dazed. His talons were stained.

"Dinobot, what happened?" Primal demanded. The Predacon looked up at him with an agitated expression.

"Optimus. I…" He shook his head. "It was an accident. We were… It got out of hand…"

"Some accident!" Rhinox was running a scanner over Rattrap hastily, his movements tense and angry. "He's ruptured two fairly major energon lines, and this shoulder's hanging on by wires. And what the _hell_ happened to his face? Did he stick his head in your mouth?"

Dinobot flinched, and Optimus saw the guilt increase tenfold. "Rhinox, calm down. I'll handle this." In a lower voice he asked, "You were what, Dinobot? Was this a fight?"

His head jerked up sharply. "No! Nothing like that. Do you really think I would -- would --"

"What was it, then?" Primal had rarely if ever seen the warrior so panicked. He wasn't just being melodramatic, either; he was upset enough to be actually trembling. The question only seemed to agitate him further.

"I…" He bit his lip, which looked as if it had already been bitten. A thin trickle of fluid ran down his chin unheeded. "I can't tell you."

Optimus narrowed his optics. He considered questioning him further, but it probably wasn't the best time or place. He turned to watch Rhinox instead, as the engineer finished his brief examination and placed Rattrap in the CR chamber. "Is he going to be all right?"

The scowl did not leave Rhinox's face as he carefully positioned his friend. "There's no vital damage. It's mostly superficial, if extensive. The leaks are the only thing I'm worried about, and those will stop in no time." He stepped back, and the chamber hissed shut, indicator light winking on. "He'll be fine. He's seen a lot worse recently. Of course," he added nastily, "that was _battlefield_ damage." He turned and strode towards Dinobot. "Now, would you mind telling _me_ just what in the Pit happened?"

Dinobot bristled defensively. "That's none of your--"

Bad answer. Rhinox swung, sending the warrior sprawling to the floor. "When my friends turn up injured, you're damn right it's my business! Now if you don't explain yourself--"

"RHINOX!" Primal's voice brought him up short. The engineer fumed, fists clenched at his sides, but managed to gain control of himself. "You're _not_ helping. I will speak with Dinobot -- _you_ go and calm down. I know you're upset, but this isn't the way to handle it, understand?"

Rhinox heaved a sigh through his vents, and his shoulders sagged ever so slightly. "All right," he said. "All right. Sorry, Optimus. I'll leave it in your hands." He turned as if to leave, then turned back around. "But if it happens again--"

"You let me worry about that," said Optimus firmly. Rhinox thought about it, nodded reluctantly, and left, casting a backward glance at the CR chamber.

Primal reached down to help Dinobot to his feet. "Sorry. He's just upset."

"No, he's right." The warrior picked himself up without accepting the offered hand. "I deserved that, and more." He wiped a smear of mech fluid from his now profusely-bleeding mouth, glanced at it and then away, as if it were of no consequence. A slight indentation lingered on the left side of his jaw. "I suppose you have further punishment in mind."

"We'll see," said Optimus calmly. "For now, I just want to talk. Come on, there's better privacy in my quarters." (A tiny voice in the back of his mind informed him of how inappropriate that sounded. He instructed the tiny voice to shove it.)

Dinobot followed him to his room almost meekly, too wrapped up in worry and guilt to put up even a token resistance to command. That in itself was a bad sign. The raptor should be trying to defend his actions, or telling Primal to stay out of his affairs, or accusing him of not understanding Predacon ways, or… he could think of at least half a dozen things, really. Anything would have been more normal than wordless obedience. What the _Pit_ had happened? Hopefully the raptor would feel comfortable telling him if they were alone.

Once in his quarters, Primal poured himself a drink and offered one to his guest, knowing it would probably be declined. It was. Dinobot stood tensely, arms at his sides, head lowered slightly without taking his optics off of Primal. Optimus knew that attitude. He'd seen it a lot in the first few weeks after Dinobot joined his crew. The warrior was expecting… something unpleasant to happen. Expecting it, and prepared to take it without a fight.

Primal really hadn't missed seeing him like this.

"Listen, Dinobot, I know you didn't mean to hurt Rattrap. If you'd wanted to damage him, he'd be a lot closer to offline than he is. We both know that. So why don't you tell me how he came by those injuries?"

The raptor shifted uncomfortably. "Is this discussion confidential?"

"Of course. Nothing you say here leaves this room, unless you want it to."

Now Dinobot did look away from him, apparently to compose his words. "We…" He cleared his vocalizer of static. "We were indulging in… recreational activities."

Optimus raised an eyebrow. "Recreational? Were you sparring? Or was this one of your 'friendly' arguments?" He tried not to sound accusing; he knew that for the most part the insults, bickering, and even occasional scuffles between the two were harmless and meant in good fun (even if neither of them liked to admit it). After all, Dinobot and Rattrap both had some strange ideas of recreation. But for all their squabbles, Dinobot had never actually injured Rattrap, certainly not to the point of him needing CR. In fact, now that he came to think of it… Primal could barely recall ever having seen the warrior actually _strike_ the spy. They mostly restricted their ritual confrontations to name-calling. Childish and aggravating, but not really dangerous.

Then again, Dinobot could be a loose cannon. Optimus was well aware of what he could do if he lost control. Rattrap had provoked him into berserking at least once. If this had been another such case…

…_Then Rattrap would be impaled, or sliced into fine bits. That couldn't have been it_. Primal shook his head, realizing that Dinobot hadn't answered his question, that he was standing in uncertain silence. "Well? Out with it. It can't be too horrible; Rattrap's still in one piece."

"He's lucky." Dinobot scowled at the floor. "I knew it was a foolish idea. Maximals and Predacons make poor bedfellows. I should have listened to my better sense."

Optimus blinked. It took a second for the words to sink in, accompanied by a mental image that instantly made his processor ache. "Oh, Primus…" He dropped his head into his hand. "Tell me I'm not… Dinobot, did Rattrap get mauled during _intimate_ activities?" He felt like an idiot -- either for asking, or for not thinking of it sooner.

"Of course." Without looking, he knew he was receiving Dinobot's patented How Do You Survive Being So Dense? stare. "What did you _think_ I meant by recreation?"

"I told you! Bickering, sparring…"

"I thought you were being euphemistic."

Optimus groaned. "I don't believe this."

"I have no reason to lie!"

"I never said you were lying. This just makes no _sense_." He rubbed his forehead, trying not to focus on the pictures this revelation conjured. "I mean, I can understand things getting a little… out of hand, but swapping files shouldn't lead to one of you being in CR. For Prime's sake, Dinobot, does _everything_ involve violence for you?"

For a second the warrior looked like he'd been struck. Then his expression darkened, and his optics burned brighter with anger. "Who are you to judge, Optimus? You Maximals bare your Sparks with hardly a thought. Among Predacons, a moment of vulnerability is seen as opportunity by others." He held up his bloodied claws. "To interface, you must overcome your partner's defenses, impress them with a show of strength, possibly even force them to submit. It is an act of domination, possession. Rattrap offered himself to me. He submitted, invited me to take my pleasure, and so I did. I regret harming him. I forgot his fragility in the… heat of the moment. But he is as responsible for that as I!"

Primal was taken aback. Not so much by the revelation that Rattrap had started it -- that was hardly surprising. But…

_possibly even __**force**__ them to submit_

"Dinobot," he said very quietly, "did Rattrap say no at any point? Did he tell you to stop?"

"No." The raptor made a plosive noise of sheer frustration. "That was the problem. I _tried_ to stop, once. He wouldn't have any of it." He held up his hand, and Primal could now see the lacerations on his fingers, some of the drying mech fluid not from Rattrap at all. "He kept goading me on, retaliating, encouraging the violence. He wanted… something. Not just interface. He took all the pain I gave him and asked for more." Dinobot let his hand drop and looked away, shaking his head. "What is _wrong_ with that rodent?" he asked of no one in particular.

Optimus wondered the same, but that didn't stop him from sighing inwardly with relief. At least it had been consensual. If it hadn't… he honestly didn't know what he would've done. He was sure that Dinobot, with all his honor, would not force himself on another deliberately. But Primal had seen him berserk, and knew he was not always completely in control of his actions. If Rattrap pushed him to that point during 'intimate activities', he might not be _able_ to stop. Primus, that would be a nightmare.

"Well, I suggest you be more careful next time," he told the warrior. "Assuming there is a next time."

Dinobot shrugged without looking at him. "That depends. Are you going to order me to keep away from him?"

Primal didn't miss the tone of his voice. "Do you want me to?"

The raptor lowered his head, staring at the floor. "It would make things… simpler. Spare me the burden of having to end it myself."

Optimus folded his arms. "I'm not going to do that, Dinobot, for two reasons. One, I know damn well neither of you listens to my orders unless you feel like it." Dinobot grunted in acknowledgement of the fact. "And two, I think it would do more harm than good if I did. You two are good for each other. Mostly. When Rattrap isn't getting mauled, anyway." He winced at how that sounded; he'd meant it lightheartedly, but he doubted Dinobot was in a joking mood. "Obviously you've got some issues to work out. It has to be the strangest relationship I've seen in a long time. But -- don't tell Rattrap I said this, please -- I'd much rather have you two together and have to deal with things like this, than deal with the fallout of separating you. I'm not going to make that call. I'm sure you can work this out between yourselves, like reasonable adults."

Dinobot finally looked at him, and his expression suggested that Optimus had probably been drinking. "_How_ long have you known us, again?"

Surprised, Primal burst out laughing. The wry humor was a welcome sign. Dinobot must be getting over his angst. "Hey, at least things won't get boring. Just try to reel it in a little, all right? We can't have our saboteur in CR every other day. The peace and quiet would be refreshing, but I don't think I could get used to it."

A ghost of a smile pulled at Dinobot's lips. "One does become accustomed to the presence of vermin. The base is not the same without his pervasive stench."

"Funny, he says the same about you."

"I'm sure he says a great deal about me."

"You know he means it in the nicest possible way."

Dinobot laughed -- a short, sharp, slightly cynical sound, but still the first laugh Primal had heard from him in weeks. Optimus finally relaxed. He'd envisioned weeks of the two Maximals refusing to talk to each other, or even stand in the same room. It would have been awkward, stressful, and disrupted operations for Primus knew how long. Eventually they'd have come to their senses -- barring one of them dying or leaving the planet entirely, he didn't think anything could keep them away from each other indefinitely -- but in the meantime, he'd have another headache to deal with. If he had to step in and play relationship counselor to avert such drama, so be it. It wasn't really part of his official responsibilities, but that was true of many things he'd had to deal with since they were stranded here.

"I suppose I need to have a talk with him," said Dinobot resignedly. "I'll do it tomorrow. The day has been long enough for me."

"And me," said Optimus. "Alright, you're dismissed. Go get yourself patched up."

The warrior looked wryly at his hands. "Ahh, yes. Go to the engineer, who would probably love to have my head on a plate right now, and ask him to repair some minor wounds acquired while injuring his friend." He snorted. "You need rest more than I do, Optimus, if your grasp of logic is slipping so."

_Right. Silly me_. "I'll have a talk with Rhinox, see if I can get him to calm down. But in the meantime…" He sighed. "…staying away from him is probably not a bad idea. I guess you can manage without treatment."

"A few bitten fingers aren't going to kill me. They'll be healed by morning." Dinobot picked a shred of loose skin off his hand with an impassive expression, and Optimus tried not to wince. "I'll be taking my leave, then. Are you… certain there's nothing else?"

Primal knew what he was asking. The Predacon didn't understand forgiveness. He expected to pay for his transgressions, intentional or otherwise. "Do you think there should be?"

"I injured a teammate."

"By accident. Unless you're lying, which I highly doubt, Rattrap is as responsible as you. Should I punish you both?"

Dinobot considered that for a long moment. Finally his shoulders slumped, an almost imperceptible gesture of surrender. "It won't happen again," he assured his commander.

"I believe you."

"Should I make the same promise to Rhinox?"

Primal almost flinched at the mental image that invoked. "No. Leave that to me. For Prime's sake, go and get some rest. You were on death's door a few days ago, remember?"

"Oh, yes. I remember." The raptor turned wearily and headed for the door. He seemed drained, the perpetual fight gone out of him. Rarely did Optimus get a chance to see him like this. It always brought out his protective instincts. Ordinarily Dinobot struck him as the last person he had to protect -- in fact, not uncommonly he was the one defending his commander -- but on occasion his armor wore thin and one could see a tired, heavily scarred creature, barely half the age his lined face suggested, dragging his sword from one battle to the next as if there were no other path to take. It wrenched Primal to the core, and he wondered sometimes if the others who worked for Megatron were like that, if there was something just as sad in all of them. Then stopped himself from wondering, because that sort of sympathetic thinking would lose them the war in an instant.

"Dinobot," he said abruptly, and the warrior stopped without turning around, waiting. "I know how you think, and I can understand it given where you've come from, but… interfacing doesn't have to be a battle. It's supposed to be an act of trust, at least for us. I don't think Rattrap will hurt you."

"Nor do I." His shoulders sagged. "It wasn't a matter of trust this time, merely habit. I wasn't sure what to do, so I fell back on experience. I acted as I would have with-- with a Predacon. It was a mistake."

_He must be tired. He almost slipped and said a name_. Knowing that he was not likely to get the warrior in such an honest and revealing mood again anytime soon, Optimus went for broke. "If I might ask, what experience? I take it Rattrap wasn't the first, but…"

Dinobot turned, bringing his jagged profile into view, a single glowing red optic looking over his shoulder at Primal. "I am tired, Optimus. I'll be in my quarters if you need me." And with that he walked out, not waiting to be dismissed again, leaving the question unanswered.

- - - - -

_His shoulder plating threatened to buckle under the merciless grip, but he refused to show the pain. To flinch or avert his optics from the mech in front of him would earn him much worse, and moreover, would be an admission of weakness. He was not weak. He would not disgrace himself before his leader._

_"I should have you scrapped," said the other in his smooth, deceptive voice, a slight edge to his tone the only indicator of displeasure. "Were you any other servant of mine…"_

_"Your other servants would not dare question you. They are cowards." His head snapped abruptly to one side as he was struck, not particularly hard -- mostly as a reminder not to interrupt._

_"They have more sense than you. As I was saying, another mech in your place would be dead." The hand which had delivered the blow now cupped his chin, turning his head back so they were once again optic-to-optic. "But you, my dear lieutenant, would be difficult to replace. So what am I to do?" The grip on his jaw tightened. "I can't tolerate insubordination. What will it take to remind you of your place?"_

_He knew better than to answer. Instead he glared, letting his optics do the speaking. The ones he was looking into narrowed in response._

_Abruptly he was flung away, striking the floor with a loud clatter of metal on metal. He rolled to get his feet under him and started to rise, but a heavy blow across the back brought him down again. He felt a heel press down between his shoulders, pinning him in place. "Don't make this any harder than it is, Dinobot. Do you really want to fight me again?"_

_In response, he twisted sharply to one side. The foot slipped from his shoulder, and he grabbed it by the ankle and jerked, bringing his attacker to the floor with him. Then he sprang onto the larger mech. "We'll see what it takes to remind __**you**__ -- I did not join you out of unquestioning obedience! I am a warrior, not a mindless drone!"_

_He landed several blows before a hand shot up and latched onto his throat. "If you follow me, you WILL obey without question! I think I've made clear by now what happens to those who don't!" The other hand caught his fist in mid-swing and squeezed. There was a creaking, followed by a popping as joints dislocated. "But if you need another demonstration, I will gladly provide it."_

_"Slag you!"_

_The other was on his feet in an instant, slamming Dinobot back against a wall. "Keep pushing. I may decide to destroy you yet."_

_The hand around his throat was leaving dents, and his feet were almost dangling off the floor. He reacted out of reflex, bringing his knee up sharply, pointed shinguard digging into the other's abdomen. The other stumbled back, not much, but enough to drop him. Dinobot staggered for a second, then recovered._

_"Do it then, and get it over with!" he snapped. "It would be the first promise to me you've actually kept!"_

_"Ingrate."_

_"Megalomaniac!"_

_"COWARD."_

_Livid, he charged. He should have seen through the ploy, seen the weapon being drawn, but he didn't… until it was too late._

_Just as he reached his target, drawing back his hand to strike, a bolt of searing pain shot through his hip and paralyzed half his body. Dinobot screeched in fury, pitching forward onto his face as the other mech moved aside. For several seconds he lay twitching in uncontrollable spasms, his entire sensornet tingling. When he finally lifted his head, he recognized what had brought him down._

_"That was more effective than I'd hoped. No wonder Maximal enforcers are so fond of these." The larger mech held a stunner, a simple rod no longer than his forearm with a pair of electrical prongs at the end. Dinobot was well acquainted with such devices. "It's said they can bring down the most violent of mechs, if you apply them to the right parts of the body. I appreciate you giving me an opportunity to test that out."_

_Dinobot snarled. "That was a dishonorable trick."_

_"Which is why you keep losing to me. Hm. Now, where were we?"_

_White agony flared in his processor as the stunner was jabbed into the back his neck. Dinobot screamed something unintelligible into the floor. He writhed and thrashed, but couldn't get his limbs coordinated to reach up and grab the Pitspawned thing. When it withdrew, he simply went limp, too weak to move for the moment. He hated the feeling._

_A hand grabbed his arm, rolled him onto his back. He lay still, feeling strength gradually returning to his limbs. The same hand ran over his face, and he resisted the urge to bite, pretending he was still in the grip of paralysis. He tried not to tense as it moved down his chestplate and along the seams that marked the borders of his armor panels._

_The larger mech chuckled, bending close now, his weight pinning Dinobot to the floor. "You seem much more cooperative now. Are you ready to yield, or do you need further persuasion?"_

_The stunner was still in his other hand, carelessly close. Dinobot found that he could move his fingers again. He distracted the other by straining his vocalizer, apparently trying to form words._

_"Take your time regaining the power of speech. I can be patient--"_

_The larger mech's gloating was cut off by a bellow of agony as Dinobot jabbed the spanner into a gap in his abdominal plating, sending several thousand volts through the sensitive circuitry. "Here is my answer," said the warrior. "Take it!" He managed to heave the spasming body off to the side. Then he fell back, still not recovered from his own ordeal, listening to the other's gasping and groaning._

_He would pay for that. But at least he hadn't yielded without a fight._

_A minute later, he felt the barrel of a fusion cannon against his cheek. "You… shouldn't… have done that," said the other through gritted teeth. "Now I am… MOST upset. Yesss."_

…

_Pain._

…

_Shouting._

…

_Impacts, and finally blackness._

Dinobot's optics brightened suddenly, the harsh hissing of his vents loud in the stillness. He sat up, pushing off a phantom weight, and drew his sword. The point trembled slightly, betraying the unsteadiness of his hand. He was alone… but the shadows seemed to whisper with malicious intent.

"Get out," he said aloud, disoriented.

A laugh echoed faintly in his mind. _"And how do you intend to make me? I've ensured that I will always be with you."_

"Not here," he said. "Get _out_."

_"You can run from me out there, Dinobot, but you can't escape your own mind. You shouldn't have let me in. But then, I didn't leave you much choice, did I?"_

Of course he hadn't. That was the Predacon way. But he no longer had such opportunities… and all things would fade with time. "You can't live in my head forever. I will forget you. I will forget all of it!"

_"Go on back to sleep, then, and have another dream. See how easy it is to forget."_

The warrior ground his teeth. He tried to lie back down, but his body wouldn't respond. His joints were locked rigid, cables tensed. His hands gripped the hilt of his sword. He sat staring into the darkness, knowing that he was alone, safe, and had nothing to fear. He cursed himself for weakness.

But he did not, could not, return to sleep. And the voice haunting his mind knew it, and laughed.

- - - - -

- - - - -

**A/N:** So, um, yeah.

Look, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not gonna spell it out for you. Just keep reading.

(God, Dinobot needs Ambien or something. No wonder he's such a grouchy bastard.)

Oh, hey, reviews! Guess I'd better reply to some of these people.

**Nameless Moonlight**: Thanks for taking the time to review, especially after reading the chapter at 1:30 in the morning on a school night. Unfortunately, the wee hours of the morning seem to be when most of my updates happen, possibly because my muses work hardest when the rest of my brain is shutting down for sleep.

**missingrache**: One with Rattrap's accent should not attempt dirty talk. Sadly, it is in character. I doubt he was really paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth at the time, anyway.

Pit fighting actually didn't leave Dinobot with a lot of bad memories. It was just a job, sometimes enjoyable, sometimes boring, depending on the worthiness of his opponents. He did it largely to have an outlet for his aggression. At any rate, it's not a source of angst. 'Unpleasant memories' was referring to something else entirely… as you've probably guessed by now.

**andalitebandit-6**: We'll see how long he beats himself up over this one. Hopefully not too long, since, as Primal pointed out, it isn't entirely his fault.

**Ember Koramin**: I'm a tad sadomasochistic myself, so I know the mindset, but I wouldn't take it as far as these two. You're right though, it works for them. Unfortunately this time they went at it without safewords or anything like, so the consequences weren't pretty. (Your technique requires some work, guys.)

I didn't actually like Cheetor much when I first watched the show. I find him more appealing now, though I'm not sure if I've actually grown to like the character or just the way I write him.

**lying mongoose**: I usually can't stand OCs myself, which is why I screened Mimic heavily for Mary-Sue traits before letting her into the fic. She seemed harmless enough to me, the idea was too funny to resist, and Cheetor's glad to have someone to play with, so… we'll see how it works out.

If you're looking for cat-on-cat cuteness, you'll be disappointed. I'm not writing them as twu wuv. But there will be more interaction, that much I _can_ promise.

"Messed up" is a good way to describe it. I don't envy Primal having to play relationship counselor to these two.

(I warned you, didn't I? The show is completely and utterly addicting.)

**Redd Marie**: Oh, I'm not done making you shudder yet. But it's good to see someone's been paying attention. You should feel vindicated now.

**Fayola**: I love your reviews. I think I already replied to this one, but I'll do it again here. You wrote awesome one-shots for them, don't sell yourself short. They do have a sentimental side -- Rattrap with his predilection for romance novels, Dinobot with his fierce capacity for devotion. We're just not seeing it yet. What you just saw was the eruption of sexual frustration that's been brewing between them for over a year. It didn't leave much room for fluff. Once they've calmed down, yeah, things are gonna be different between them. (Least I hope so, because Rattrap cannot keep doing this every other night.)

**killslay**: Welcome aboard. I got into Beast Wars a few years ago after being dragged into TFs in general. I'm glad I tried it out, because it was way better than I remembered from the couple episodes I'd seen as a kid.

'The Low Road' is great for Dinotrap moments. It's kind of a silly episode overall, but it's noteworthy for slashers. Rattrap's one of my favorite characters, too. (Oddly enough, I didn't like him at first, to the point where I was vehemently against Dinotrap slash for the longest time. I knew it was all but canon, I just couldn't accept it. Denial is a funny thing.)

Rattrap may paint himself as a coward, but he has balls of steel when he needs them. He's certainly no meek and timid sub. Dinobot wouldn't give him the time of day if he was.

Issues, yes, one could say that. Yeah, part of it's just good kinky fun, since Rattrap can get into just about anything, but the reason he specifically sought pain this time… yeah. That's going to be a fun talk.

Thanks, and I'm glad you're enjoying this. That goes for everyone reading. (Unless you're not enjoying it, in which case, be so kind as to let me know.)


	27. Up To Your Neck? Grab A Shovel!

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 27)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Oh, the usual. Drama, drama, innuendo, drama, some violence, swearing, drama, angst, drama, epic snark, abuse of the English language and probably way more sex than there needs to be. Did I mention drama?

**Notes**: Who predicted epic drama this chapter? WE HAVE A WINNER! Rattrap gets out of CR and boy, does he have a mess to clean up. Of course, that'll be easier said than done.

(Fair warning: One scene includes rather vivid descriptions of carnivory that might be a little disturbing to vegans or to, well, anybody. Advise you not read while eating, unless raw meat does it for you.)

- - - - -

Physically, Rattrap was sore. The CR chamber (and he for one was _really_ sick of ending up in those things) had done its job, and his injuries were gone, but the sensor memories of recent pain lingered. It didn't matter. Mentally, he was soaring. From the moment he woke up, he was riding a euphoric high better than he could remember having in a long, long time. His body, tired and tingling with phantom pains as it was, felt relaxed and sated. If not for the clarity of sensation, he might think he was dreaming.

The dream ended when the chamber opened and he found himself looking at a very displeased Rhinox. It didn't quite kill his buzz, but the bubble of happiness deflated just a little.

"Hey, Big Green. You keepin' a watch on me durin' my nap? That's sweet. Hey, any idea where Chopperface got to?"

He saw the slight swell of anger, the narrowing of optics, and knew he was treading on thin ice. With his head in the clouds, however, he hardly thought to watch his footing.

"What happened?" The engineer sounded worried, but there was an edge of anger lending menace to his voice.

Rattrap smirked. "Whaddya think? I finally got what I been after all this time. Wasn't exactly like I expected, but--"

"I'll say. You should've seen your shoulder. Mind telling me just what you were thinking? He could have _killed_ you."

The spy blinked. "Yeah, I guess so. He didn't though, so what're you so worried about? Things just got a little rough. I got a few holes punched in me, but I'm _fine_. Good as new, see?"

"And what if you weren't?" his friend demanded. "Rattrap, what if I hadn't been able to fix you?"

The spy thought for a second, then grinned flippantly and shrugged. "Least I woulda died happy."

Rhinox grabbed him by the arms and lifted him off the floor, trying to shake him out of his euphoric daze. "_Rattrap!_ Wake up! You can't keep doing this. I'd almost swear you were trying to get yourself terminated!"

Finding his feet dangling well above the floor, Rattrap's head cleared a little. He tucked up and pushed with his feet at Rhinox's broad chest, trying to squirm out of his grip. "Sheesh, what's wrong with you? Let me GO!" He sounded angry, but more than a little panicked as well.

"Well?" Rhinox shook him harder in response. There was anger in his voice too, and something else… frustration? Fear? "Do you _like_ ending up in repairs again and again? Is it just another game to you? Dammit, answer me!"

Rattrap finally stopped struggling and glared at him, his cloud of joy completely dissipated now. "Yeah, okay. Maybe I do. Maybe I get some sorta thrill offa doin' this, maybe I just don't care. What's it to ya, huh? Can't you keep your nosehorn outta my business for once?"

Considering Rhinox was the only mech who'd bothered to worry about Rattrap's well-being all these years, it was quite a blow. For just a second, his optics widened in hurt. Then they narrowed again as cold rage overtook him.

He slammed the spy back against the wall, hard enough to jar his small body painfully, though not hard enough to send him back into CR. Rattrap yelped and flinched reflexively, cringing back against the wall, accustomed enough to this sort of behavior to expect unpleasantness to follow. Rhinox leaned close, their faces inches apart, and spoke in a low growl that was somehow far worse than shouting. "Don't bother going to Dinobot for your next fix. If it's pain you want, then Primus help me, I'll--"

He stopped himself in mid-sentence, optics widening again. The words on the tip of his tongue were hastily swallowed, but he could hear them ringing in his processor, and from the look on Rattrap's face he knew full well what they would've been. The smaller mech was staring at him now, mouth slightly open, rigid with fear. Rhinox couldn't meet his gaze. Dimming his optics, he set Rattrap back on the floor, where the spy leaned against the wall for support. The engineer turned away, rubbing his forehead, willing away dark thoughts. An awkward silence stretched.

"Maybe… maybe you shouldn't finish that thought," said Rattrap finally, rubbing at his lightly dented upper arms.

"Yeah." Rhinox sighed. "Forget I said anything."

"_Tch_. I'll try. No promises, pal."

_I probably deserved that_. Still, Rattrap's retort froze the apology that was on its way out of Rhinox's vocalizer. It was hard to stay really angry at Rattrap for long, but it was equally hard to feel bad for him with such a smartass attitude. Honestly, how did the damn rodent _think_ his friend would react? He provoked these things, just like he did with Dinobot. "I just worry, you know. Even if you don't care about putting yourself in harm's way, I do."

"I'm a big boy, Rhinox. I can handle myself. But thanks _so_ much for your concern." Rattrap brushed past him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I got some serious refuelin' to do."

He left without a backward glance at his friend. _That damn bruiser, who does he think he is? I find one thing that makes me happy on this sorry rock an' he tries to push me away from it. I never asked for his protection. I think he's just jealous_.

Despite his anger, he couldn't supress a quick shudder of fear. He knew all too well what Rhinox _hadn't_ said, and knew that he meant every unspoken word of it. There were worse kinds of pain than careless claws, or teeth that nipped a little too hard in the throes of ecstasy.

- - - - -

Early the next morning, overenergized, underslept, and still slightly sore, he set off outside the base in search of Dinobot. He already knew the damn saurian wasn't in his room, and the weather being even reasonably decent, out here was where he was pretty much guaranteed to be.

It had rained a little the night before. Everything was just a bit too damp to be from condensation alone, even at this hour. The entire gorge below was filled with mist from the falls, and it seemed like every damn bird and monkey and bug for miles had come to make a racket right outside the _Axalon_. Rattrap was not a morning person, and he didn't appreciate the chorus of life as anything more than a hell of a lot of noise.

_How come you enjoy bein' out here so much anyway, instead of in the nice, cozy base where we got everything we need? Boggles the mind_.

Normally he'd just wait for Dinobot to come back in. But a brief word from Optimus had planted a seed of remorse in his mind. Rattrap hadn't thought about his actions much the night before, but there was no denying it now: he had used the warrior. Did Dinobot know that? Or did he think what had happened was all his fault? Knowing him, probably the latter. He deserved an explanation. Of course, there was a chance he'd just maul Rattrap again after receiving it, but at least then he'd have good reason.

The rat was distracted from his musings when a blurred olive shape almost knocked him sprawling. He jumped back about two feet as something small, furry, and apparently rocket-propelled shot across his path, followed swiftly by something larger and yellow. He recognized the second shape, and for a moment he thought Cheetor was hunting again. Then the kid caught up to his target… who immediately flipped and grabbed him by the head, pulling him to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

As Rattrap watched, blinking against the dust they'd stirred up, Cheetor rolled over on his back with a monkey clasped to his chest, pulling on his whiskers. "Ow! Hey, no fair! I caught you!"

The monkey made a chittering noise and wiggled away, but instead of running, it pounced on his tail. Cheetor yelped and sprang up, and they went into a whirlwind of fur, while a confused spy coughed and waved the cloud of dust from his nose.

"Whoa, whoa! What's goin' on here? You playin' with your food now, Spots?"

Somehow the cat came to a halt, panting, with the small primate clinging to his back. "Oh… hey, Rattrap. Meet Mimic." He gestured with his head, indicating the monkey pulling on one of his ears. "Mim, this is Rattrap. Why don't you say hi?"

Instantly the monkey transferred its attention to the new arrival, pouncing on him before he could open his mouth. Rattrap was less than thrilled by this. In seconds he'd been pulled, plucked, prodded, and sniffed all over. He tried to push the damn thing away, but it stuck to him like glue. "Hey, newbie, where's your manners?"

"Oh, uh, she doesn't talk yet." Cheetor came over and nudged his new friend away. "Come on, Mim, leave the smelly old grouch alone. He's not much fun to play with."

"_Tch_, you're not my kinda playmate, kid." Rattrap sat up on his hindquarters and dusted himself off. "So you're the latest addition, huh? I'd say nice to meet you, but uh, you took care o' the introductions pretty well by yourself. Glad to see you're settlin' in." He tried to smooth his fur a bit where she'd mussed it up. "Spots, you seen Chopperface around anywhere? He ain't in his room, I figured he'd be out here."

"I think he went out last night. I saw his tracks at the edge of the forest. They must've been fresh, 'cause of the rain and all. I can show you if you want."

"Nah, that's alright. I can find 'em. Thanks." Rattrap set off down the rough path Dinobot usually followed when he set out on a hunting excursion or a patrol. Behind him, he could hear the mock-battle resume, and shook his head. Apparently Cheetor had finally found someone who could keep up with him. Would wonders never cease?

The spy knew Dinobot well enough to track him without a guide, most days. It didn't take long to pick up his scent, or spot the distinctive clawed footprints in the rain-softened earth. There was no telling how far he'd have to go, though. The raptor could trek all day if he really wanted solitude. _I swear, I'm gonna put a beacon on that damn lizard. Otherwise I'll be huntin' him down like this every slaggin' day_.

Sometimes, Rattrap really missed his wheels. With a sigh of resignation, he set off through the dripping undergrowth.

- - - - -

Dinobot wasn't trying to hide. The smell of blood and the sound of crunching bones announced his presence some distance away. Rattrap tried to approach without disturbing him, but whatever he was eating had attracted vermin -- of the feathered variety -- and a large bird startled from a branch overhead gave the spy away. Dinobot's head snapped up to follow the movement, but when he saw who had caused it, he went back to tearing at his kill without a word.

Not invited, but not yet chased off, Rattrap edged closer. As the brush parted he saw what the raptor was working on -- some kind of small antelope, with spiky little horns and big liquid eyes, was lying in the dirt with its throat and stomach torn open. Dinobot was holding it down with one hind foot and ripping at the meat with his fangs. His muzzle was bloodied, and shreds of reddish flesh hung down from between his teeth. Rattrap swallowed his nausea. Watching the raptor eat never failed to turn his fuel tank a little… not that he had room to talk, given some of the things he ate, but at least the things he ate didn't usually have _eyes_.

"Looks, uh, delicious," he choked. Then he cleared his vocalizer. Dinobot hadn't responded, so he'd have to start this conversation. Ohhh boy. "Listen, Chopperface, we need to talk. About last night--" He winced as a bone snapped in two with a sharp _crack_, with a timing he could've sworn was deliberate. "Rhinox didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

"_Hm_. You could say that." The raptor jerked his neck, ripping at a strand of sinew. "Under the circumstances, I don't blame him. I deserved to suffer for my foolishness." His voice was harsh, cold, and he didn't look up at Rattrap as he spoke.

"Hey now, it wasn't your fault, alright? I shoulda stopped when--"

"Yes. Yes, you should have." Dinobot cocked his head, staring at his kill, then grabbed the neck in his teeth and tore at it savagely, as if to rip the head from the body. Rattrap sensed the displaced anger and frustration, and shuddered to think it might just as easily be inflicted on _him_. It would make what they'd done the night before look like a pillow fight.

Averting his eyes from the violent display, he tried to apologize while staring at the dirt. "Look, I screwed up, okay? I admit it. Go ahead, take it out on me any way that'll make you feel better."

There was an angry snort from the carnivore. "No. It would only make _you_ feel better, vermin."

…Ouch. "What's that supposed to mean, Razormaw?"

"I admit, it puzzled me for some time why you would want anything to do with a Predacon -- especially one who could easily snap you in two. It should have been obvious. You certainly spent enough time trying to provoke me into mauling you." A low growl built up in Dinobot's throat. "If only you had said so when we first met, I would have _gladly_ obliged you then. No need to lead me on for over a year, or disguise your wishes as something else entirely."

Rattrap's head snapped up. "What? Now wait--"

Blazing eyes met his. "Do the feelings of a Predacon matter so little to you? Or did you make the mistake of thinking I didn't have any?"

_Whoa. WHOA_. Rattrap actually took a step back. He felt like he'd fallen into a deep pit and was still trying to figure out where he'd misstepped. "What? I don't… Chopperface, it ain't like that!"

The velociraptor lunged, and the rodent flattened himself instinctively in shock as a bloody muzzle loomed over him. Death floated ripe on Dinobot's breath as he hissed down at the flinching spy. "I. _Cared_. For. You." He spat out every word like poison. "And you? What did you want with me?"

The rat's eyes couldn't have gotten wider if they'd tried. "You, Chopperface. Just you--"

_"LIAR!"_ Dinobot's voice rose to a screech, sending a whole flock of birds into flight. "Do you think I don't know when I'm being used? Did you think I wouldn't realize that I was just a tool for your pursuit of pain? The truth, rodent, or you will join this miserable organic in oblivion!"

"Calm _down_!" Rattrap shouted back. He didn't even have time to think about how stupid that was; he had to get Dinobot cooled off or he was going to blow up, and then there'd be no chance to put this mess back together. "I can't give you the truth if you're shoutin' in my face!"

A year ago, under these circumstances, Dinobot would have torn him apart. Even now his tail lashed, his claws flexed, but he backed down… or at least drew back a few inches, enough to give Rattrap some breathing room. The spy couldn't help heaving a small sigh of relief. He wanted a minute to gather his thoughts, but he knew he'd better take advantage of the chance to speak. Dinobot was clearly not in a patient mood.

"Okay. The truth." Rattrap braced himself. "The truth is… I'm a selfish bastard, an' I take advantage of everybody, even my friends. S'probably why I don't have a lotta friends. Not too many people give you second chances once you've screwed 'em over, an' that's my fault. But you mean more'n that to me, so before you tear me apart -- an' I know I deserve it -- I wanna make sure you know."

Dinobot stood, unmoved, unreadable. Rattrap plunged on before his fickle nerves tried to desert him again. _Stay calm. It's just like defusing a bomb_. "I admit, I always liked settin' you off. An' yeah, you can probably guess… well, one o' the reasons why. But that ain't the only reason. I just liked gettin' you riled 'cause it was the only excuse I had to talk to you." He winced -- that sounded so cliché, like a couple of schoolyard kids picking on each other because of a crush -- but he'd promised to be honest for once. "Plus, I like the way you fight. Your optics flash, an' your lip curls in that wonderfully nasty sneer you got, an' you hurl insults like grenades. What can I say, it's a thing o' beauty."

Dinobot scowled. "Are you borrowing lines from one of those insipid novels of yours?"

"_No_, slaggit." Rattrap sighed in exasperation. "Look, I know I messed up. But that just means I messed up, one time, 'cause I wasn't thinkin', cause we were caught up in the moment. It don't mean that nothin' I said was ever for real, that it was all a lie. Primus, not even I could keep a lie like that goin' for that long -- I mean, not that I'd want to -- ah, scrap." He slapped a tiny rat paw against his forehead. "What I'm tryin' to tell you is… I don't care if we never do that again. Ever. That's not important to me. But… please, don't let everything else end 'cause o' this. Please. Don't let me screw up the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Was he _saying_ this? He was. Unbelievable. And he _meant_ it! Somewhere, surely, pigs were taking flight and rivers were running backward. The balance of the universe had been altered. Rattrap was, for the moment, utterly sincere.

Dinobot was staring at him, doubtful, searching. Rattrap stood up slowly on his hind legs and extended a paw, holding it out towards the raptor, though not close enough to touch. He waited, tense. If Dinobot chose to bite his paw off in retaliation, he had the perfect chance to do so. But if he decided to forgive him…

After a small eternity, Dinobot reached out with a forearm. The tips of his claws lightly, just barely, brushed against Rattrap's fingers. It wasn't quite a full reconciliation, but it was a second chance. Rattrap's Core started spinning again.

A low, sinister chuckle superimposed itself on the scene, incongruous, as if rising out of a bad dream. Dinobot went rigid, and his slitted pupils dilated ever so slightly. Rattrap whipped around, unable to believe they'd been that careless, let their guard down that _far_.

Even in the dense rainforest, a _Tyrannosaurus rex_ should not have been able to sneak up on them so easily.

"Ahh, Rattrap. With that silver tongue of yours, you could talk half of Cybertron into your berth." Megatron chuckled. "Your talents are wasted on such an easy catch. Don't you think, my dear _former_ lieutenant?"

- - - - -

- - - - -

**A/N**: No, they're not breaking up. This isn't a "let's just be friends" speech (not like they can just pretend the last twenty-something chapters never happened, anyway). But Rattrap will have to re-earn some of Dinobot's trust before it can progress any farther.

In case everyone's not clear, Dinobot's pissed because Rattrap used him to satisfy his masochistic cravings. That didn't really sink in until last night, when the nightmares woke him up. Now he feels like he's been led on, like he's nothing but a toy, and… well, suffice to say it's not the first time he's been in that situation. Thankfully this time it was just a screwup on Rattrap's part. He'll make up for it.

And yes, when Dinobot calms down, he'll apologize too. He may have been doing what Rattrap wanted, but he still mauled his lover pretty good. He won't feel right until he's atoned no matter what Rattrap says.

As for Megatron, I ain't revealing slag about that. Just wait for the next update.

**REVIEWER REPLIES** (just a few):

**OrianPrime92**: Why does everyone keep saying that? Oy. I swear, I am totally going to shock the hell out of everybody with that one.

I'd feel sorry for Rhinox, but… well, see above. He means well. He is worried about his friend. But Primus, he can be a dick. Which wouldn't be so bad if the rest of the Maximals didn't think he shits ice cream or whatever. At least the Predacons know better.

**Sneer**: I can imagine few things worse than having Megatron in your head. Sorry, can't tell you why he's there yet, but it should become pretty clear soon.

**Myaxx22**: I love angst. Get used to it. Here, have some more! (And if you think _this_ is bad, Chapter 28 should reach whole new levels of staggering drama.)

Love you all, please review if you haven't, otherwise I don't know you're reading. Peace.


	28. NonPredaconsensual

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 28)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Mostly drama. Also angst, violence, snark, swearing, sex, references to rape and abusive relationships. Usually not all in one chapter, but you never know.

**Notes**: Had to change the warnings, as we've moved on into Serious Business territory. Some ugly truths come out this chapter, and there is discussion of non-con. Those with triggers, ye have been forewarned.

- - - - -

Dinobot spun to face the threat, tail raised, claws spread wide, bloody fangs bared. "Get out," he growled. He moved, ever so subtly, to place himself in front of Rattrap. The spy wondered if it was subconscious or deliberate.

_'Preciate the sentiment, Lizard Lips, but it ain't necessary_. Transforming, Rattrap drew his pistol and stepped out from behind the raptor to stand flank-to-flank with him. A few meters of brush and a small stream were all that separated them from the tyrant. "How long you been eavesdroppin', Grapeface? Don't tell me you got nothin' better to do."

Megatron looked amused. "Oh, I was here before you, vermin. Dinobot should have sensed my presence some time ago, but it seems he was… preoccupied."

The warrior started violently. It was possible, of course, that Megatron was lying. But if he was telling the truth, and he really had been lurking here the whole time… Dinobot did not like the implications.

"Your time among the Maximals has softened you, Dinobot. In more ways than one." Megatron's glance flicked from the warrior to the spy. "Your standards have fallen, as well. I never would have guessed that you would settle for so _little_."

The raptor's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching. Then he lifted his lip in a sneer. "_Hm_. If you mean the vile, wretched pestilence who _should_ be standing behind me…" He shot Rattrap a quick glare. "I assure you, I've had _much_ worse."

Megatron's tail lashed once, tightly, from side to side. He didn't seem to like what Dinobot was implying. But he quickly masked his displeasure with a smooth smile. "Such ingratitude. On second thought, vermin, I believe you two deserve each other. One mech's trash is another mech's treasure… and you do have a taste for _garbage_."

The spy checked his angry outburst and gave the Predacon leader his smarmiest smirk instead. "What can I say? It's amazin' what some mechs throw away."

Dinobot snarled. "Let me fight my own battles, rodent!" He transformed hastily and drew his sword, pushing Rattrap aside. "Why waste time talking, Megatron? If it's a rematch you want, I will gladly oblige!"

The tyrant chuckled. "Oh, not at all, not at all. Do you see my weapon drawn? Am I not still in beastmode, standing here at a respectable distance? I only wish to talk, Dinobot. Can't we have a civil conversation, for old times' sake?"

"As I recall," the warrior said darkly, "our former conversations were anything but civil." Nevertheless, he reluctantly sheathed his sword. Megatron had played on his sense of honor with a skill born of practice. Dinobot couldn't justify attacking an unarmed opponent, now that he'd been called out on it.

Rattrap groaned. "Ahh, don't tell me you're fallin' for that! Weapon drawn or no, he's a threat, an' I only got one response to threats." His finger tightened slowly on the trigger. A clawed hand wrapped around the barrel of the pistol and jerked it downward.

"He's not making threats, he's trying to provoke us. Primus knows what he has up his sleeve." Dinobot didn't take his optics off of Megatron as he spoke. "The best thing to do would be to walk away. He won't follow."

A big, spine-chilling grin curved the tyrannosaur's jaws. "Walk away? That doesn't sound like the Dinobot I knew. And I knew him so _very_ well, yess." He licked his lips, noting the change in the warrior's expression, the sudden rigid tension of his body. "Why, there was a time I trusted him more than any of my followers. Did he tell you about that, vermin? He was my staunchest supporter… weren't you, my pet? Loyal to his Core."

Rattrap felt the fur bristling on his back at the way Megatron spoke about Dinobot -- spoke _to_ him. It felt like something nasty had slithered through his circuits. _I don't care what Chopperface says, I'm puttin' a round between that bastard's eyes if he don't shut the frag up in about two seconds_.

"He told me everything, Scaleface. You really think I care? He may've been loyal to you once, but he's one of us now." He raised the pistol again, waving it threateningly while keeping the barrel pointed in Megatron's general direction. "I really suggest you let it go already. 'Cause this jealousy o' yours? Is gettin' to be a real pain."

Megatron looked incredulous for a second, then laughed. "_Jealous?_ Oh, Rattrap. Why would I be jealous? After all…" He smirked at Dinobot. "I had him first."

Something inside the spy lurched to a halt, like he'd been punched in the gut. Rattrap glanced at the warrior, and from the murder in Dinobot's optics he guessed that Megatron was telling the truth for once. Images he'd forcibly suppressed for months poured into his processor. It wasn't a huge surprise. He'd suspected it for a long time, really, but it was one thing to suspect and another to hear it _said_ in that slick, oily voice, a voice that made his beastflesh want to crawl right off of his frame. He couldn't stop a visible shudder of revulsion from rattling every joint in his body.

"Hmm?" Megatron cocked his head. "Well, well. It seems he didn't tell you everything after all."

It was Dinobot who responded, as Rattrap's wits seemed to have temporarily failed him. "Are you finished? If so, then remove yourself from our presence before I do something dishonorable." His entire body was quivering like a high-tension wire, and his claws flexed angrily at his sides.

"Oh, yes. We wouldn't want that, would we?" The tyrant retreated a step. "Very well. The two of you obviously have some things to work out, in any case. Best of luck with that, yes." He turned to leave… and then turned back for a final jab. "If you need advice, Dinobot, you know where to find me. Don't forget who taught you how to please a partner. From the look of those dents, I'd say you learned quite well."

Dinobot roared so suddenly that Rattrap jumped. His optics flashed green, and Megatron ducked with a reflex that spoke of practice. The destructive beam grazed his back and annihilated a young tree behind him, showering him with charred leaves and bark.

"Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, for I am _sick_ when I do look on thee!" The warrior's voice was hoarse, and thick with an accent Rattrap couldn't place. He fired again, and again, knocking branches off of the trees above Megatron's head. He wasn't even aiming at the tyrant now -- just trying to bring half the forest down on top of him, apparently. The spot where Megatron had been standing was swiftly buried in foliage. The noise was deafening, and Rattrap covered his audio receptors, taking cover instinctively behind a tree while Dinobot expended his rage.

When the rending, crackling and splintering sounds finally ceased, the spy peeked cautiously out. Dinobot stood with his feet planted apart in a fighting stance, shoulders heaving, sword hanging heavily at his side. For dozens of yards in front of him the trees lay shattered and smoking, and there was no sign of Megatron. The warrior didn't seem to realize the danger had passed, however; his optics still had a wild light in them, blazing at something Rattrap couldn't see. The spy approached him cautiously, ready to beat a hasty retreat if need be.

"Dinobot?" The figure didn't waver. "Dinobot!" He was still staring intently into the trees. "Yo, Chopperface! We should get outta here."

The warrior's optics flickered. He shook his head quickly as if to clear it, then looked around. Finding no trace of Megatron, his gaze fell on Rattrap. "Yes. We… should leave." He spoke mechanically, his mind still distracted. Without another word he transformed and started off in no particular direction, Rattrap scurrying to follow.

- - - - -

They walked in silence for a while. The path was taking them closer to the _Axalon_, but not directly toward it; Rattrap guessed that neither of them wanted to run into the other Maximals just now. He wasn't sure where Dinobot was going, if anywhere, or how long he was planning to walk. Rattrap's beastmode wasn't built for long treks, but he didn't bother Dinobot with questions. He probably wouldn't have answered anyway. An almost tangible awkwardness had settled between them. Rattrap briefly considered leaving him and going back to the _Axalon_ himself, to wait for the warrior to come back when he was ready, but quickly dismissed the idea. Dinobot was in no mental state for combat, and who knew if there were any other Predacons skulking around?

Eventually the trees thinned, and a cliffside loomed ahead. They kept going until they were in the shadow of the overhang, out of the forest completely; only thin grass grew around the base of the rock wall. Here Dinobot seemed to relax, ever so slightly. He found a niche behind a rocky protrusion that blocked the wind and the morning sun, and settled himself with his back to the cliffside. It was probably the most protected spot one could find out here -- impossible to be attacked from behind, and the ground ahead was open and visible enough to spot any approaching threat, while the rocks themselves afforded quite a bit of shelter. Even spotting them would be difficult here, as the brown-skinned raptor and gray-furred rat fit in rather well with the scenery.

Rattrap plunked himself down next to the warrior, with perhaps a foot of space between them. "You must come here a lot," he said. "Good tactical position."

Dinobot barely acknowledged him with a grunt. The spy sensed that he wanted to be left to his thoughts for a while, but frankly he wasn't sure that was a great idea, and besides, he wanted some answers. "Don't blame you for needin' to watch your back all the time. 'Specially not after what I just heard."

The raptor twitched -- almost flinched. "I'm not in the mood," he said slowly, "to talk about this right now."

"Course not. You didn't wanna talk about it before, neither. But it sorta came up anyway, so we'd better deal with it, 'cause otherwise it's just gonna follow us around an' bite us on the ass."

A low growl rumbled in Dinobot's throat. Rattrap's beast-mind shivered, but he held himself in place, outwardly unperturbed. "Look, if it's any consolation, I ain't really surprised. I figured you an' Megs had a history back when you first joined up. He always kinda talked to you like… well, like he knew you really well." _So very well, yess_. The fur on his back prickled slightly in memory. "An' you… heh. You had to have some reason for puttin' up with his slag for so long."

"That was not the only reason." Dinobot trained his eyes on the open terrain in front of them, as if not looking at Rattrap made it easier to speak. "At first it was as I told you. He recruited me to his cause. I was his most trusted subordinate."

"An' then?"

The raptor shrugged. "You heard Megatron. There's nothing more to tell."

"Chopperface, we both know Megatron lies like a power cord on the floor. I wanna hear the story from _you_."

There was no immediate answer, so after a moment he pressed on. "He was your first, wasn't he? Or was he lyin' about that?"

Scaly eyelids closed, almost as if in shame. "Regrettably, it's true. No one else had ever gotten close enough."

"So how'd _he_ get that close?"

For a moment it seemed as if Dinobot wasn't going to answer. Then he opened his eyes and stared steadfastly at the horizon. "Predacons take what they want," he said. "I should have known, after he had given me so much, that he would demand something in return."

The fur prickled along Rattrap's shoulders, but he didn't speak. He had a feeling this wasn't a pleasant tale.

Dinobot sighed and continued. "It began with a look. I would catch it in his optics sometimes, when he thought I wasn't paying attention. He was usually careful with his expressions around me, but I had had many years to develop a suspicious mind. I'm not sure I can describe it… a look of hunger, greed. I never saw it directed at anything else, until the day we stole the Golden Disk." Rattrap shivered. He knew that look himself. "I knew he wanted something from me, but I assumed it had to do solely with my skills as a warrior. At the time I could think of no other possibility.

"Then… touch. Again, subtle at first, easy to overlook. A hand would brush my back or linger a little too long on my arm. It made me uneasy. I have never been fond of physical contact. But he did me no harm, and he was my commander, and my only friend. So I allowed it."

Rattrap ventured to ask, "Did you know what he was gettin' at? I mean, anyone ever tried that with you before?"

The raptor grunted. "None would have dared. No one touched me unless they wanted a fight. Perhaps there were verbal advances, but I never heeded them. It was nothing I was interested in."

"Maybe some o' those people you thought wanted a fight were really after somethin' else, though. Remember how you thought I was attackin' your face?"

Dinobot paused, a troubled look on his face. He hadn't considered that before. In light of what had happened, later, however… He quickly shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I had no need of such diversions, and no trust in those who offered them. I tried to convey this to Megatron once his intentions became clear."

Rattrap let out a low whistle. "I'll just bet he was thrilled to hear that."

The warrior curled his lips back from his teeth in memory. "He told me that my wishes were irrelevant. I was _his_. I challenged him to come and claim me, then. And that was my mistake."

"Why? Did he seriously expect you not to fight him?" Rattrap snorted. "He shoulda known better."

The raptor looked down at him sharply. "You don't understand. I issued a _challenge_. I gave Megatron a way to earn my submission. If he defeated me, I would have no choice but to acknowledge his victory."

"Y'mean… Oh. Oh, _slag_." Rattrap went silent for a long moment. "Did he?"

Dinobot looked away from him, toward the horizon. "Yes."

A chill breeze slithered out of nowhere into their retreat. Rattrap shivered violently and huddled closer to the tense, crouching raptor. "So then you let him…"

"I didn't let him _win_, I assure you. I knew what the consequence of losing would be." He shook his head. "I simply wasn't strong enough. And among Predacons, strength is everything. You lose what you cannot defend."

The spy stared up at him for a moment in horrified silence. Then he laid a paw against Dinobot's shoulder. "Slag, Chopperface, I'm sorry. If I'da known… I mean, he's a black-Sparked bastard an' a connivin' snake, but even I wouldn't've thought he'd do something like that to his own--"

Dinobot turned his head sharply to glare at the rodent. "Save your sympathy. I was no innocent victim. I made a foolish mistake, and I paid for it. I am not to be pitied for putting myself in that situation, do you understand?"

Rattrap blinked. "But… you just told me he…"

"Claimed what was his. He is not the first Predacon commander to do so. As a means of asserting authority and control, it is undeniably effective, I can attest to that." He grimaced slightly before he caught himself. "Unpleasant, but effective. In any case, it would not have happened if I had won the battle. Defeat carries a steep price."

Rattrap couldn't believe what he was hearing. "A steep price, huh? Assertin' authority? That's the Pred slang terminology for _rape_?"

That single word had all the impact of a five-megaton warhead. Dinobot's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, and he tensed so violently that Rattrap jumped back, expecting him to lash out. Instead the raptor stood, shook the dust from his scales, and took several agitated steps away before turning back, snarling at him. "What do you know about it? You can only judge us by your own moral standards. Our loyalty, our _respect_, can only be earned through displays of power! Megatron is a fool and a dishonorable villain, but even he understands _that_ much!"

"I seem to recall Optimus earnin' your respect without throwin' you over a desk!" the spy snapped, too angry to hold back, and saw another missile strike its target, Dinobot physically recoiling from his words.

"Optimus defeated me in battle, in case you've forgotten!" the warrior retorted, recovering quickly.

"Glad you don't write the history books. Nobody won that fight, pal -- Megs called the game early. No, you decided to follow Optimus 'cause he saved your scaly tail on that bridge, without expectin' anything in return. Megatron woulda never done nothin' like that for you in a million years!"

Dinobot didn't have a comeback for that. He glanced away, and Rattrap could almost hear his gears turning -- trying to come up with a rationalization, a defense, or even just an insult to throw the rat off his track. The spy didn't hesitate, but plowed on while he had the advantage. "Look, I don't care what you call it, you can't justify it. Not to me. What do _I_ know about it? You really wanna know?" He drew himself up on his hind legs. "I'll tell you. I don't like bein' honest about myself, but it's the least you deserve in return."

The warrior still didn't look at him. "That isn't necessary, rodent."

"Shut up an' listen, Chopperface! Don't make me lose my nerve." Rattrap drew a deep breath, then began talking fast, not giving himself time to edit the tale. "There was this fembot I knew once, name o' Surge. She was a lot older'n me, but we hung out a lot when I was still gamma-stage. I had a lotta friends that were older'n me -- I thought it was cool, an' I liked learnin' stuff from 'em. 'Course, some o' the things I learned were of a questionable nature. I think they liked corruptin' me… but then I was pretty corruptible. Never really was what you'd call innocent."

"Imagine that."

Rattrap ignored the spiteful interruption. "So I was one o' them, or so I thought. An' Surge, she took a shine to me. Mind you, she'd been with just about everyone in the gang, so it weren't real surprisin' when she made a pass at me too. Still, she got sorta fond o' me, an' used to say, half-joking, that we were boyfriend an' girlfriend. The others always found that real funny. Thinkin' back, I guess they had a pretty good idea what was bound to happen."

He paused to gather his nerve, and this time Dinobot didn't say anything. "So my twelfth cycle rolled around, an' the gang took me out to celebrate my comin' of age. They took me to this bar I'd never been in -- some o' the roughest-lookin' local elements I'd ever seen together in one place. Surge bought me a drink. First one I'd ever had legally, though they'd shared some o' their high-grade with me before." Rattrap stared down at the dirt. "This was more'n just high-grade. Whatever they put in it took me on a trip I'll never forget. Felt like my CPU'd sprouted wings and was flyin' all over the place. I kinda lost control o' my limbs, an' my sensors… oh, boy. Color, sound, smell, none of it made any sense. Guess it would've been fun for most bots, least once they were used to it. The others took the stuff just for fun. But for me… well, my sensornet didn't handle it too well."

"I imagine not, from what I experienced of your sensors." Dinobot was looking at him now, but Rattrap didn't want to know what expression his face might hold. The spy kept his own gaze lowered.

"So anyway, I was trippin' big-time, somewhere between excitement an' sheer panic. Whole world looked different, an' I couldn't hardly move. Then Surge, she's leanin' real close to me… she says she's gonna give me a birthday present." One corner of his mouth twitched wryly. "Heh, nowadays if a nice-lookin' fembot drags me onto her lap, I usually got no objections. But just then it shook me up. Somethin' didn't feel right. Maybe it was the drugs makin' everythin' weird. Maybe it was Surge -- she always did come on a little strong. Maybe…" He sighed. "Maybe I just wasn't ready. I dunno. Anyway, jacked as I was, I knew I didn't like this, an' I started resistin'. Wasn't much of a coherent resistance, mind you -- I was pretty far gone by then. It was all I could do to mumble 'Stop' an' push away from her a little. Still, it shoulda got the message across."

"Did it?"

Dinobot's voice sounded closer, and Rattrap looked up to find the velociraptor's muzzle nearly brushing the top of his head. He sighed and dropped down to all fours, curling his tail around his body. "Y'know, for the longest time I tried to convince myself she didn't hear, or didn't understand me. But I know better. I can remember clear as day, her laughin' an' tellin' me, _Just relax, it'll feel real good soon_." He shuddered. "Worst part is, she was right. After a little while it _did_ start to feel pretty good. Physically, anyway…"

He trailed off as Dinobot settled down beside him, long tail curling around both of them. The spy pressed himself into a warm, scaly flank without looking up. He supposed he'd told enough, but couldn't quite seem to bring himself to stop. "Everybody said I must've enjoyed it. So I decided they were right. No sense arguin' -- after all, I'd let her do it to me." There was a sharp intake of breath from the warrior, but he didn't say anything. "Surge said I was the easiest bot she'd ever been with, an' trust me, that was sayin' a lot. Everybody thought I was a real mech-whore after that." Rattrap shrugged. "So, that's what I became. I musta been the plaything for half o' Simfur over the next decade or so. Never said 'stop' again… I'd do whatever they wanted, be whatever they wanted. I even learned to like it."

He finally managed to check his babbling, realizing he might've said _too_ much. Dinobot was silent -- an ominous sign. The spy drew back and huddled in on himself, unable to look up. "You got no idea what a used piece o' rat-tail you picked up. I ain't even worth sharpenin' your claws on. But the truth is, I mighta never turned out that way if-- I mean, can you imagine what it was like goin' through that the day I became a mech? Any chance I had o' developin' self-respect, _bang!_ Gone. She might as well've rewired me into a pleasure-bot."

A three-clawed hand rested lightly on his back, and he finally fell silent as Dinobot's muzzle brushed his ear. "Such honesty takes courage," the warrior said quietly. "I respect that, despite what you say. I certainly don't think any less of you."

"_Tch_, that'd be quite an achievement."

Dinobot sighed, ruffling his fur. "Rattrap, I'm serious. I don't see how you can compare your situation to mine. You were not at fault."

The spy jerked his head up, finally. "Neither were you! Don't you get it? We were _both_ used, Dinobot. I was drugged, you were forced, but it comes down to the same thing. We were both--"

"No," said the warrior firmly. "You were young, and incapacitated through trickery. You could not defend yourself. I had no such excuse."

"So it ain't my fault I was tricked, but it's somehow _your_ fault that you tried to fight him off and lost?"

"I am a Predacon warrior!" Dinobot snapped. "I don't deserve anything I can't fight to keep. I had lost to him, and so I belonged to him. To the victor go the spoils -- THAT is our way!"

"Your way or Megatron's? 'Cause that sounds like his sorta reasoning. Matter o' fact, I don't even get why you're defendin' it. After what happened to you--"

"That is exactly why."

Rattrap wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Pardon?"

Once again Dinobot rose to his feet. He made no attempt to walk away this time, just stood staring off into the distance. "I _had_ to believe it, vermin. If submitting to the victor in battle was a Predacon custom, then there was no shame in it. I had not lost my honor. If not…" The warrior lowered his head. "If not, then my honor had been taken from me. I could not live with being a victim. I would have thrown myself on my sword… I nearly did."

The spy stared at him in silence, and Dinobot turned to look down at him again. "You have little use for honor, vermin, and I doubt you have ever been burdened with an overabundance of pride. But for me, pride and honor were all I had left to cling to. Would you rather I had lost them? Because we would not be here talking then, I assure you of that."

Rattrap didn't answer. What could he possibly say to that? He knew what it was like to have to cling to delusions to keep his sanity. It wasn't something he could condemn in others.

After a moment of utterly depressing silence, the spy sighed and sat up. "You win. I ain't arguin' no more. Not like I'm in a position to talk." He rested a paw on a scaly shoulder. "I'm glad you got out when you did, though."

Dinobot nodded agreement. "I should have told you sooner. Had you known what you were getting into before we attempted to interface, you might not have been so badly injured."

"Attempted? I'd say we did a little more than that." Rattrap patted his shoulder. "Anyway, don't worry about it. After what you just told me, I ain't surprised you went at it like it was an act o' war. 'S what you're used to." He shrugged. "Sides, I wasn't exactly complainin' at the time."

The warrior growled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, because it won't happen again. I gave Optimus my word."

Rattrap concealed a flash of disappointment. "That's too bad. I was gonna offer to show you how to have a good time without needin' a CR bath afterwards. I mean, I got plenty of experience to draw from. I bet we could make it work better the second time." He withdrew his paw. "Course, if you ain't interested… well, last thing I wanna do is push. Wouldn't blame you if you never wanted me in your berth again, to be honest. Totally your call."

_What am I doing? Am I insane? This is no time to try an' score again, for Primus' sake! The guy just got through tellin' me 'bout Megatron takin' him by force!_

_On the other hand_, countered another voice in Rattrap's CPU, _ain't it about time somebody gave him somethin' better to remember? An' who else is that gonna be?_

Dinobot started to walk away, pulling him from his thoughts. "Hey, wait! Don't run off! I didn't mean--"

The raptor glanced over his shoulder. "Who's running off, rodent? I'm headed back to the _Axalon_. I assume you didn't plan on making a second attempt out here. Secluded though it is among these rocks, I'm sure the energon surges would present a problem."

It took a second for the rat to register what he was saying. Then he smiled, _really_ smiled for the first time that day.

Together they left the shadow of the cliff, taking the least conspicuous possible route back to the base. They weren't about to be interrupted twice.

******

**A/N**: AND MAGICAL HEALING SEX ENSUES! Nah, just kidding. Sex, however, does ensue. Whether or not it heals anything remains to be seen… NEXT TIME, ON BEAST WARS!

By the way, **Nameless Moonlight**: You called it. Here, have a cookie.

Drop me a review if you'd be so kind, folks. It's what makes this worth doing, y'know.


	29. Nothing Sacred

**Never Did Run Smooth (Ch. 29)**

**Thing With No Talent**

**Pairings**: Dinobot/Rattrap, mention of Terrorsaur/Waspinator and others

**Summary**: Shakespeare was right, love is never easy. Especially with these two...

**Warnings**: Mostly drama. Also angst, violence, snark, swearing, sex, references to rape and abusive relationships. Usually not all in one chapter, but you never know.

**Notes**: This chapter contains dead monkeys and dirty videos. Unfortunately, none of that is as fun as it sounds.

Mimic ran ahead a ways, then stopped and perched on a log to wait for Cheetor. She barked at him in excited monkey-speak: _Hurry up!_ _Hurry up!_

Cheetor rarely had problems keeping up with anybody, but it turned out that a monkey mode beat a cheetah mode for moving through thick forest. His long legs kept tripping over roots and getting tangled in the underbrush. Mimic watched with good-natured amusement, but she looked impatient. No sooner had he caught up to her than she raced off again, leaping from branch to branch. Cheetor clawed his way over a fallen tree and followed as fast as he could.

"Where are we going?" he yelled ahead. Then kicked himself mentally. Like he expected her to answer?

"Hey, stay where I can see you! C'mon, I'll get in enough trouble for this as it is!"

Right on cue, his comm chirped. _"Cheetor? Mind telling me where you two think you're going?"_

Cheetor winced; he knew that deceptively calm tone well. "Sorry, Optimus. She just started pulling on my fur, trying to get me to follow her, and then she ran off. I don't know where she's taking me, honestly."

_"Need I remind you that her processor's damaged? Or that she doesn't have a gun? If you two run into trouble-"_

"I can _handle_ it, Optimus. Just trust me. I'll keep her safe." Privately, Cheetor wasn't sure he should worry. He'd seen Mimic in a fight; Optimus hadn't. She was no warrior, but she seemed to be able to look after herself. Not that he was about to get in an argument with his commander over it. "We'll be back soon, okay? If anything happens, I'll radio for backup."

There was a moment's silence. Then Optimus sighed - the sort of sound he made when he wasn't happy about something, but didn't really have a choice. _"Alright. Just be sure to check in, and don't let her wander too far. Bring her back by the scruff of the neck if you have to."_

_Yeah, if I can even catch her_. "Uh, right. You got it, Big Bot. Cheetor out."

Back to chasing the monkey. At least she'd slowed down enough that he could keep her in sight now. The underbrush was thinning, a little. He could feel occasional patches of grass under his paws, where breaks in the trees allowed sunlight through. They were heading downhill, roughly following the river. He couldn't see it through the brush, but the roar of the falls behind them hadn't yet faded to inaudibility, and he could smell the water nearby.

He smelled something else, too - a hint of charred wood. He paused, climbing onto a low slanting trunk for a better vantage point, and sniffed the air deeply. Yep, they were near the site of yesterday's battle. Probably not a good place to be, but it sounded quiet so far. Hopefully the Predacons had lost interest in the area.

He was about to call for Mimic when she reappeared up ahead, waving to him from a low branch. As he came up to her, she dropped to the ground and started pacing around in a little clearing, tail waving in the air. Every few steps she stopped, threw her head back, and let out a shrill call. Cheetor winced. If there _were_ any Predacons around, they'd hear that a mile away.

"What is it? Who are you-" He stopped, because the answer suddenly occurred to him. Really, he should've figured it out before now. "You're looking for your friends, aren't you?"

She stood listening for a moment, waiting for an answer, then darted off again. Cheetor sighed and followed. She had to be looking for the other monkeys. Why else would she be running around out here, screeching loud enough to wake half the valley? It made sense - they were her first family, and though she wasn't with them very long, she probably still identified with them. Like Tigatron had with Snowstalker. And after the attack on their home, she was probably worried about them.

"Alright, I'll help you find them. Just try not to leave me behind, okay?"

That wasn't a problem. The ground was becoming more open, and Cheetor was able to weave a path among the tree trunks and keep Mimic in sight as she raced through the branches overhead. Every now and then she stopped, scanned the area, and called again before moving on. Cheetor figured she was looking in all the monkeys' favorite spots. He was no Tigatron, but he noticed a few signs of the troop's activity wherever she stopped - tracks, droppings, half-eaten fruits lying on the ground. All the signs were at least a couple of days old, though. Mimic barely gave them a glance.

The scene of the Predacon attack, with its blast marks and burnt trees, she gave a wide berth. Cheetor didn't blame her. He doubted the monkeys would be returning to that particular grove any time soon. Besides, a few of them had been killed there, and Mimic probably didn't want to see the bodies.

She stopped to drink at the river, and Cheetor joined her. He was absently looking upstream when a shadow swept over them. Mimic let out a sharp guttural bark and leaped back. Cheetor bared his teeth in a snarl, expecting one of the Predacon fliers…

It was only a vulture. He sighed with relief, glancing at Mimic. "Scared you too, huh?"

She made a face and turned away, pretending to pout. Cheetor laughed. He turned to watch the vulture soar away downstream. It banked over the trees, flying low. Really low, in fact.

His hackles prickled. The unease returned.

"Hold on…" He moved down the bank a few yards to gain a clearer line of sight through the trees. He could see two or three other vultures wheeling over a clearing in the trees less than half a mile away. The one that had just flown overhead was headed the same direction. As he watched, zooming his optics for a better view, one folded its wings and dropped down to feed.

_It could be nothing. Animals die out here all the time. Maybe Dinobot killed something_. Still, Cheetor had a bad feeling about it that he couldn't shake. He turned around. "Hey, Mim? Maybe we should-"

Too late. She knew he'd seen something, and immediately ran up a tree to see for herself. After staring for a few seconds, she darted back to the ground and, without pausing to wait for Cheetor, took off in the direction of the vultures.

_Slag!_ He didn't bother to shout after her. Time to do what his beastmode was built for. He raced forward in pursuit.

Only after the stench of burnt wood and smoke from the battleground cleared from his nostrils was he finally able to smell what lay ahead, and a sick feeling gripped his Spark. But when he finally cleared the last of the brush and came out into the clearing, not even his imagination had prepared him for what he saw.

"I told him to check in," said Optimus, frowning at the monitor.

Rhinox shrugged. "You're surprised?"

"He's gotten more responsible lately. I just hope they didn't run into trouble."

"If there's no distress call, it's a safe bet they aren't up to their necks in Predacons," the engineer pointed out. "No news is good news. You worry too much, Optimus."

"The minute I stop worrying, something goes wrong. Besides, I don't like not knowing where half my troops are. I haven't seen Dinobot all day, and Primus knows where Rattrap headed off to." There was a conspicuous lack of response, causing him to glance up at Rhinox. "I don't suppose you know?"

Slowly, the engineer shook his head. "Mmm… I was there when he came out of CR, but where he planned on going after that, I don't know. He's not in his room, or any of his usual work sites. Either he's crawled into an access shaft somewhere or he went for a walk." _I shouldn't have driven him off. After _that_ little conversation, he probably won't turn up for a while_.

"Maybe he went looking for Dinobot." Two and two usually made four, in Optimus' book.

"What for? To finish the job?" Rhinox let out a snort that sounded oddly like his beastmode. "I hope he knows I'm not cleaning up the mess this time."

His commander frowned reprovingly. "That was an accident, Rhinox. We discussed this." They had, in fact, spent nearly two hours discussing it the night before. Optimus didn't care to start it up again.

Apparently, Rhinox didn't either. He leaned back against a wall with his arms folded and sighed. "I know, I know. You're probably right. There's nothing I can do about it, anyway. But I don't have to like it."

"Nobody said you did."

"Those two were trouble in a can before. Now they're shaking the can."

Optimus shrugged. "Well, at least they finally took the lid off. All that pressure was going to make someone explode sooner or later. And since we're talking Rattrap, I might just mean that literally. This is probably better for everybody."

The walking voice of pessimism gave him a slightly annoyed look. "Doesn't anything bother you anymore? I'm starting to wonder what it'd take to make you concerned."

"…A transmission from Megatron."

Rhinox snorted. "Aside from that."

"No, I mean I'm receiving one." Optimus pointed to one of the myriad lights on the console, now flashing insistently. "Looks like a pre-recorded vid-file. Just came in a few seconds ago."

"What?" Rhinox uncrossed his arms and came to stand by Primal, looking over his shoulder. "Hmm. What the slag does he want?"

"I don't know. He doesn't usually contact us directly, unless he thinks it's important." _And if Megatron thinks it's important_…

"I wouldn't touch it, then. There's no message attached. It could be anything - it might not even be from Megatron."

Optimus shook his head slowly. "If a Predacon thought it was important enough to send without getting clearance from Megatron, all the more reason to have a look." Without waiting for further protests, he punched up the file onscreen.

Immediately he saw that the recording was an older one, for it was clearly set on Cybertron. Despite the changes - metal where beastflesh would later be, panels and treads in place of claws and scales - Optimus had no difficulty recognizing the two mechs on the screen. The face of one was unmistakable, and the other, who stood with his back to the camera, spoke in a deep smooth voice that Primal would know anywhere.

"I don't recall giving you permission to leave yesterday, Dinobot."

The warrior replied in a surly low tone. "I didn't ask."

"Ah, yes. I suppose that would explain it." The hulking figure of Megatron took a step towards Dinobot, half blocking him from view. "May I inquire as to what you were doing?"

"Drinking. Quite a lot, actually." Primal gave a start at this. He'd never known Dinobot to get willfully intoxicated, and it seemed like strange behavior from him. But it explained the slightly dimmed optics and the way Dinobot was standing, not quite as rigidly straight as usual, his weight shifted slightly to one side. His speech, too, was different - not the voice itself, but the tone and pacing sounded casual, almost careless, compared to his usual slow and deliberate picking of words. His sword half-hung neglectedly from one hand, stained with fresh mech fluids… and now that he looked more closely, Optimus could see that he was injured, though not severely so. A few armor panels were ripped up and there was wiring exposed in one shoulder.

"I can see that, yes. And fighting, too, by the looks of it." Megatron reached out and plucked a shred of torn metal from Dinobot's arm. The warrior flinched slightly, just enough for Primal to see it, but didn't make a sound. "Rather reckless of you, warrior. It's not like you to seek such entertainment on a whim. Is there something on your mind?"

The dull optics flickered, then glanced away from his commander's face. The reaction was impossible to miss. Suddenly Megatron's hand was gripping Dinobot's chin, forcing him to look up. "Well? Do tell." The tyrant's voice still oozed mock concern, but there was a dangerous edge to it, more audible by the moment.

Dinobot glared back, optics flaring brighter in sudden anger. His posture was defiant, but he made no attempt to grab Megatron's hand or pull away. Optimus stared - he couldn't imagine doing that to the warrior and getting away with it. "Do you control my thoughts now, too? I was not aware of that part of the contract."

Instantly the grip shifted to his neck. Dinobot was slammed back against the wall by the throat, his sword hitting the floor with a loud clatter. "Don't play games with me, lieutenant! You couldn't hide anything from me if your life depended on it. I know you were planning to leave!"

_Now_ Dinobot was clawing at his wrist, trying to pry him off. The warrior's expression, however, had shifted from anger to panic. Optimus felt something in his tanks turn. For _him_ to show such open terror and desperation…

"No!" The voice was muffled, straining past the constriction of his throat. "I came back-"

"Because you lost your nerve, yes." Megatron leaned close, his head blocking Dinobot's from the screen. "But you had considered it, hadn't you?"

He released his grip, and Dinobot gasped, rubbing at his throat. "I needed to _think_," he explained, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "Recent setbacks had… left me uncertain. I went out to… to get myself together. I didn't expect to encounter trouble."

"Of course you didn't." Megatron raised a hand again, and Dinobot turned his face away… but the tyrant ran his fingertips gently down one blue-plated cheek, stroking him like a pet. His voice was soothing, understanding. "You were simply confused, weren't you? Just needed to drink your doubt away." He withdrew his hand and then, lightning-quick, backhanded the warrior across the other side of his face. "And to build up your courage! I read your logs, Dinobot. You intended desertion!"

Primal wasn't aware of how tightly his fists were clenched, or how loudly his vents were hissing, until Rhinox's hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up briefly. The engineer's expression looked as dark as he felt.

"Turn it off, Optimus. I don't think we need to watch this."

Optimus couldn't agree more, but his optics returned to the screen anyway. The universal magnetic force that draws the eyes of witnesses at a traffic accident or keeps an audience riveted to a horror movie had him in its grasp.

Megatron had retrieved Dinobot's sword from the floor, and was running the tip of the blade between his fingers, caressing it in a highly unsettling manner. Dinobot wasn't looking at him now. He didn't confirm or deny his commander's suspicions, probably because there was no need. He stared off into an undefinable point in space as Megatron continued speaking. "I knew that something was amiss, so I checked your personal logs, and it's fortunate that I did. Really Dinobot, you're terrible at hiding these things. If you want to live a long and happy life as a Predacon, you simply _must_ learn how to lie."

"Forgive me, my lord." The voice was low and subdued. In Primal's experience, Dinobot only sounded like that when he honestly thought he had done wrong. "I was weak to doubt. It will not happen again."

Megatron half-turned, and Optimus, from a vantage point Dinobot did not have, saw his grip tighten on the hilt of the sword. "Oh, my dear lieutenant. You are already forgiven. But forgiveness does not preclude punishment, no."

Primal almost shouted a warning before he realized it wouldn't do any good. Nearly frozen in horror, he watched as Megatron spun to face Dinobot, charging up the sword at the same time. He rammed the spinning blade through the warrior's body, nailing him to the wall as decisively as he had pinned him to the battlefield several days ago. Dinobot's reflexes were slowed enough that he didn't react in time, although his hands closed around the hilt as it rammed against his abdomen. His mouth opened in shock and he made a sound, not quite a scream, but with a terrible strangled quality that made Optimus physically ill to hear. The spell was broken at last and the Maximal leader turned away, averting his optics from the screen.

"I think I've seen enough," he said quietly. His finger stabbed at the console without looking, cutting off the transmission.

Or trying to, at any rate. The console didn't seem to be responding…

Optimus shot a quick glance at the screen, where Dinobot was still pinned and Megatron still looming over him, and then jabbed the button again. And again. "Rhinox, what's wrong with this thing?"

The tech was already leaning forward, tapping out commands. "I was afraid he'd do something like this. Must've encoded a virus into the transmission. It's hijacking the playback function, overriding the shutoff command-"

_Don't lose it. There's no reason to panic_. Except that the video was still playing and Megatron was doing _something _with his hands that was hard to see, but made Dinobot cry out again, and Optimus was trying frantically not to look- "Can't you shut it off manually?"

"On it." Rhinox knelt and began removing a panel from the base of the console. Primal's traitorous optics strayed back to the screen, where Megatron was busy prying something off of Dinobot's torso. It took him a few seconds to figure out what. Then his Spark lurched and coolant froze in his lines. _No, it can't be- No! I can't see this!_

"Rhinox-"

"Just a minute." The tech was up to his massive elbows in a snake's nest of wires and power cords. Unfortunately, the comm systems were specially designed not to shut off easily with the flip of a switch. They had backup power sources, redundant energy routes…

Megatron was talking. Optimus had blocked out most of the words, but some filtered through. "Lest you forget to whom you belong…"

At that moment, every other screen in the command center activated and began displaying the video. Still looking at Rhinox, Optimus found himself staring over the engineer's shoulder at the very image he'd been trying to avoid looking at. It was only an instant's glimpse, before he shut off his optics completely, but every line and ugly detail of it burned itself permanently into his CPU.

_Oh dear Primus. DINOBOT._

As if answering a summons, a bolt of green light seared past his shoulder, so close it singed the fur, and smashed into the console. The screen exploded in a burst of light and a cacophany of spitting sparks. The surge must have blown a circuit, because the rest of the screens went instantly, blessedly black.

The first thing Primal felt was relief. The second was a kind of dull dismay at the destruction of a console which would take valuable time and materials to repair… though the part of him that cared about that was very distant indeed.

The third was fresh horror, as he realized where the blast had come from.

Dinobot stood in the lift, fists clenched, chest heaving, optics slowly fading back to red. Beside him was Rattrap, mouth open, too shaken to muster a single snide word. As Optimus met his optics, the spy turned away, leaning against the wall to steady himself and hiding his face behind one hand. Dinobot's destructive gaze fixed itself on his current commander, and Primal flinched inside.

_Not a word. Do not show me pity, Optimus. Let me keep what pride I have left_. He didn't have to say it; it was written all over his face. Primal could only meet his optics for a moment before turning away.

Rhinox had backed out of the tangle of wires with a muffled curse as the console exploded, and now he turned to glare at first Dinobot and then Optimus, his own expression communicating plenty. _What the hell? What was on the monitor? What set Dinobot off THIS time?_

Optimus didn't look at him long, either. _Don't ask_, said the averted optics.

Everyone was talking without saying a word. The command center was so quiet, it was painful.

Finally Dinobot drew a ragged breath, vents shuddering slightly. "Well," he said in a tightly controlled tone, "Megatron's sword has dulled, if the worst he can manage is this petty humiliation."

_Petty? _thought Optimus incredulously. But he could hear the strain in the warrior's voice, and knew he was just barely holding together. Probably not for long, at that. So he didn't attempt to strip him of this fragile defense.

Instead, he turned to Rhinox. "Better check everything - make sure the virus didn't affect any other systems." He knew the comm systems were isolated for exactly this sort of reason, but it wouldn't hurt to be sure. Besides, he needed to give orders right now. It kept his mind off of other things. "Don't worry about the console for now; we still have plenty of working ones. I'm more concerned with getting the system back online."

The engineer sighed wearily. "Right. Well, that's gonna take a couple of hours. And I'll probably need Rattrap's help with rewiring this mess. I can't even reach the main power supply without removing a whole section of cabling back here."

Optimus glanced at the spy, wondering if he was even up to the task. Rattrap looked stricken, arms wrapped around himself as if to ward off a chill, and wasn't looking directly at anyone. He did seem to be watching Dinobot out of the corner of one optic, but if the warrior noticed, he gave no indication.

Abruptly Dinobot turned and exited the command center at a swift stride, his retreating footsteps echoing loudly for some distance down the corridor. Rattrap hesitated briefly, then started after him.

"Wait," said Optimus. "I don't think he wants company right now."

The spy shot him such a seething, venomous look that Primal was actually taken aback for a second. But then a resigned slump overtook his posture. His arms dropped to his sides. "You're prob'ly right," he muttered. "Not like I can do anything for 'im, anyway. Not after that."

Not for the first time recently, Optimus found himself sincerely wanting to hug him. Giving in to impulse, he took a step towards the smaller mech, reaching for his shoulder. "Rattrap-"

But the spy shook off the would-be friendly hand, along with whatever melancholy was trying to grip him. He pushed past Primal to the console where Rhinox was working and knelt, shouldering the engineer out of the way despite their difference in mass. "Let's get this slagger fixed," he said as his nimble hands plunged into the maze of cables, "an' wipe that Primus-forsaken record outta the databank."

_Why aren't they answering?_

Cheetor had tried calling the base several times, but all that came over the line was static. Whatever was going on back there, nobody seemed to feel like answering the comm. He and Mimic were alone now except for the bodies of monkeys.

Bodies lay everywhere in the clearing. The whole troop must have been surprised in their sleep. For the most part, they looked as if they could still be sleeping - eyes closed, faces slack, arms and legs splayed limply. Only the utter stillness and the fact that they were on the ground instead of the trees gave away the truth.

That, and the puncture marks on a few of the small corpses showing where they had been neatly drained of fluids. And the three that had been dissected, skins peeled back, viscera laid open to the air like laboratory specimens.

No predator Cheetor had ever heard of would mutilate so precisely, without taking so much as a nibble of flesh. He knew what had done this. The puncture marks, in particular, made him turn away with a queasy shudder of familiarity. After surviving the brutal aerial attack and the burning of their favorite grove, the monkey troop had run afoul of Predacons once more. Except Tarantulas was more stealthy and thorough by far. Most likely, none of the little primates had seen what hit them.

Which didn't make it any easier to see the lifeless faces, the carnage. Or to listen to Mimic's disconsolate whimpers.

She was huddled at the far end of the clearing, arms folded, head bowed. She didn't move when Cheetor cautiously approached her again. The first time he tried to drag her away, she'd hissed and struck at him, almost feral. Now he wasn't sure what to do.

"Mim. Listen... We gotta go back. I can't get an answer from Optimus, or anybody. They don't know where we are or what's happened. We have to go tell them."

She didn't respond, and he reached for her shoulder with a paw. "Come on. We _have _to go."

Mimic raised her head, and Cheetor started back, because he saw what she was huddled over. A baby monkey clung to her chest. Its fur was a smoky gray, darker than the adults, with white on the limbs and forehead. Its huge ears, which stuck out on either side of its head like handles, were pale pink, as was its tiny wrinkled face. Its eyes were closed. Cheetor assumed it was dead until he saw the sides fluttering with rapid, shallow breaths.

"It's alive," he said in amazement. "I can't believe it. Mimic, maybe we can-"

He stopped as soon as he looked at her face. She didn't say anything, but she was staring down at the baby in her arms, and her expression was as bleak as when she'd looked at the corpses. And now that he took another look, Cheetor realized why. Much as his optimistic nature wanted to see hope here, his senses told him differently. He saw how weakly those tiny fingers were gripping Mimic's fur. He detected through heat vision that the little body was dangerously chilled. He heard its erratic breathing, the faintness of its heartbeat. Probably for hours this little one had clung to the cold form of its mother, trying vainly to nurse, calling for her attention. It clung to Mimic now only because it had nothing else.

The baby's head lolled limply as Mimic tried to raise it. Its mouth moved slightly, but nothing came out. It was past the point of making a sound. Cheetor turned away, sick to his Spark.

"I'm sorry," he told her, not knowing what else to say. For whatever reason, Tarantulas hadn't bothered to kill this one. But it was doomed anyway - just taking longer, was all.

Cheetor started to walk away, shaking his head. "We have to go. There's nothing we can do. You can bring... the baby. Maybe, maybe we can do... something. I dunno. Maybe Tigatron knows."

All around, the smell of death mocked his words. Cheetor walked quickly, desperate to escape that smell. A short distance from the clearing, however, he stopped, listening behind him. After several minutes he heard a faint rustling and crackling of twigs. Mimic was following, moving slowly, still bearing her burden from the sound of things. Cheetor didn't turn around to check. He couldn't.

"Let's go home," he said, so softly he wasn't sure she heard him.

As the two Maximals left the killing ground, the vultures descended again, returning to their feast.


End file.
